


wait for me to come home

by happilylarry



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction, Zayn Malik (Musician), liam payne - Fandom, niall horan - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Bottom Louis, F/M, Famous Harry, Fluff, M/M, Top Harry, non famous louis, probably no smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-24 10:33:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12010893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happilylarry/pseuds/happilylarry
Summary: Harry's finding fame and fortune, and he's leaving Louis behind.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> part one of two, just because the draft expires in two days and i don't know what else to add. 
> 
> title from photograph by ed sheeran 
> 
> this is just a little self indulgent thing and it probably sucks but i like it. 
> 
> please enjoy

Louis' day started like it always did - with his phone alarm blaring Marimba in his ear. As he fumbled around for it - honestly, why did he put it under his pillow every night? - he ignored the fact that his bed was empty. He should get used to the fact that his bed was empty, but he hasn't. He missed rolling over and bumping into a much larger, much warmer, body than his. He missed the heavy arm that would anchor itself on his waist.

 

He missed Harry.

 

He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked at the picture on his nightstand. It was in a gold frame, some beautiful little thing that Harry had gotten him last year while travelling in Morocco. The picture was his absolute favorite, and he wasn't even embarrassed about the fact that he kissed it every night before bed. They were so young, only seventeen and nineteen. Young love is what they called it.

 

 _It won't last_. He'd been told that one a million times. Harry in his second year of University while he himself had yet to enter. He had been wondering if he wanted to go to university himself when he'd met Harry. Everything after that sort of fell into place. He never thought their relationship was stupid, or wouldn't last. He believed that it would weather the storm.

 

Now, he wasn't so sure.

 

-

 

Working in the library was one of Louis' favorite things. Aside from the fact that he got to work with books in a quiet, serene place, he also got to work with his best friends. He always thought that their boss was crazy for hiring the three of them to work together, but he didn't question her logic. She enjoyed them, and they did a good job.

 

And, it went towards extra credit at his Uni.

 

The library had two floors, and the ceiling, which was his favorite part, was nothing but a skylight. He especially loved it when the weather was bad, like it was now. The pouring rain accompanied by thunder and lightning made the library seem even cozier. And his friends worked primarily upstairs, which put him closer to the weather outside.

 

The upstairs portion of the library held the studying section. With plush armchairs and a big sectional, it was a good place to sit and read. Too often, the studying teenagers would sit on the couch or chairs and not want to study, to relaxed to do anything but fall asleep.

 

Today, the tables were occupied by a pair of girls, backpacks open and books spread out. They were each listening to music through one's cell phone, so it was quiet upstairs, save for the raging thunderstorm outside. He made his way to the book cart, which was parked next to the bathrooms, and began wheeling it towards the non-fiction section, where Niall was.

 

"Crazy weather, huh?" Niall pushed his damp hair away from his forehead with a dopey grin. "The wind almost took me umbrella away."

 

"I love it," Louis shrugged. "And I manage to get out in it without getting soaked to the bone." He nudged Niall with his shoulder.

 

Niall stuck his tongue out. "You know what I mean.Think it'll turn into snow before your birthday?" He asked, reading the spine of a book before sliding it where it needed to be. 

 

Shrugging, Louis answered, "I hope, but who knows? Early December is weird." Not that he was complaining. It was, after all, his birth month. 

 

"Yeah, true." Niall leaned against the shelving and stared at his friend. "So, heard from Harry lately?" 

 

Louis tried not to stiffen, but his spine went ramrod straight at the mention of the boyfriend who has been MIA for what felt like forever. He fumbled with the book in his hand. "No," He answered, clearing his throat. "No, I haven't."

 

"When was the last time you heard from him?" Niall was careful with his tone, and his words. He always was when Harry was mentioned, especially now, since Louis hadn't heard from him in awhile.

 

"Uh," Louis dragged the word out, studying the front of a book. "A week and three days." He tried to brush his answer off, like it didn't bother him, like it didn't make his heart curl up and lay down in his chest.

 

Niall paused. "He'll contact you soon, yeah?" He said cheerfully, though his mind was racing. Harry and Louis had a Two Week Rule, and they never broke it. They had promised, when Harry first became famous, that they wouldn't go more than two weeks without seeing each other.

 

"Skype doesn't count, Niall." Louis shrugged. "It's fine, I'll be fine."

 

It won't be fine. His hands were already trembling a bit, and he hated it. He hated that Harry would do this to him, would keep doing this to him. This was the shortest amount of time they've gone without speaking since Harry left for LA. The longest was three weeks and six days, almost a whole month. By the time his phone rang on that sixth night, he almost didn't answer. He had gotten so used to not talking to Harry. That was a fight Louis would rather not revisit, and thus created their Two Week Rule.

 

Deciding to change the subject, Niall put his last book on the shelf and turned to fully face his friend. "Hey, what are you doing after work?"

 

Not talking to Harry. "Nothing. Why?"

 

"Zayn and Liam are going to be in town tonight. They want to hang out. What do you say?" Niall proposed, hoping Louis would say yes. Louis needed to get his mind off of Harry.

 

" _In town_ ," Louis scoffed, jovial. "They live fifteen minutes out of London."

 

Grinning, Niall shrugged. He had successfully changed the subject. "They want to meet at Murphy's." They had planned it like that, because Murphy's was only two blocks away from Louis' flat, and he would have no excuse to say no.

 

"That's fine." Louis put his last book up and began wheeling the cart down the aisle. Niall ambled along beside him. "Let's just go after work."

 

"Great. They'll be there around eight. Want to walk together?" Niall's face looked so hopeful, and Louis knew that he hadn't been the best company lately, so he found himself nodding.

 

"Sure, Ni."

 

-

 

 

Murphy's was their favorite for a lot of reasons. Not only was it close to Louis' flat, it served cheap pints and the best burgers in town, hands down. That opinion may be based on the fact that they'd discovered the pub as broke students, getting ready for their second years at Uni, but now that they've all found their footing, heading into their last years, Murphy's still stood strong as their favorite place to meet up.

 

The interior was that of a pub; dark walls, dim lighting, and peanut shells on the floor. The bar was long and stretched for what seemed like a hundred feet, probably an opinion formed when they were drunk, and the booths were secluded and somewhat private. There was a stage in the corner, providing a little space for whatever person decided to get up and sing or play the guitar.

 

When Louis and Niall stepped into the pub, there was the usual rowdy group of teens, celebrating the weekend with a round of pints. Niall craned his head and looked around, finally spotting Liam and Zayn towards the back, in their usual booth. He grabbed Louis' arm they headed over, weaving around drunk and sober people alike.

 

"Wey hey, laddies." Niall greeted in his usual Irish charm. There was a basket of chips on the center of the table, and he stuck his hand in the middle, grabbing a sufficient amount to munch on. "Order yet?"

 

Zayn had tracked Niall's movements, and finally met his friend's eyes. "Just the chips," He answered dryly.

 

"We wanted to wait until you two got here," Liam explained further. "But the pints should be on their way now."

 

"I don't think I want a pint tonight," Louis said, surprising everyone in their group. To clarify, he added, "Just in case Harry calls. I want to have a clear head."

 

They all nodded in understanding and knew not to push the subject. Though Liam and Zayn were always hesitant to ask about Harry, Niall was their informant on the subject that was the now Famous Harry Styles.

 

"So, I caught the Late Late Show the other night." Zayn tested the waters. The topic of Harry was tense with Louis, and Zayn was not blind. He knew that Harry's contact with Louis had been minimal since he'd left for LA a few weeks ago.

 

"Yeah?" Louis' face lit up. "Harry was good, wasn't he?" Let it be known that Louis would be the first and last person to ever sing Harry's praises. He was so proud of his boyfriend that he wanted to scream it from the rooftops.

 

"That outfit, though..." Niall trailed off, eyebrows raised. "That was something else."

 

"I dunno," Zayn supplied. "I thought it was fashionable. Harry's always been one to break boundaries."

 

Louis nodded. He could remember Harry painting one nail black, claiming it made him look cool. Or how Harry would always wear his sheer shirts open to the belly button, putting his tattoos and beautifully carved body on display.

 

"He has a few pair of wide leg trousers in our closet." Louis informed them. "So I'm not entirely surprised that he wore some."

 

"I think I liked the mesh shirt the best." Liam said, laughing. “But on James the best.”

 

Louis made a face and stared at the little paper menu sitting in front of him. His eyes lingered on the shrimp po’boy. Whenever Harry was with them, he’d always order that.

 

“His performance was good.” Niall supplied. “I always knew he’d be famous.”

 

Louis nodded. He agreed wholeheartedly, but how did he tell his friends that he wished Harry wasn’t famous? How did he let everyone who adored Harry know how selfish he was being by wanting his boyfriend home every night? He wanted Harry to be waking up next to him every morning. He wanted to make dinner with Harry and sleep in front of the fireplace every night.

 

“Yeah,” He ended up saying, quietly. “Me too.”

 

-

 

 

It was nearing ten by the time they all exited the pub. Niall was drunk and rowdy as always, using the fact that he had the next day off to his advantage. Zayn was quiet, walking next to Louis in amicable silence, and Liam was trying to corral Niall.

 

It was their ritual.

 

“Think he’ll call?” Zayn asked, keeping his voice low. He knew how Louis wanted to keep the fraying strings of his and Harry’s relationship private.

 

Overwhelmed with sudden sadness, Louis shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. He never calls past ten.”

 

“He never calls, _period_.” Zayn’s voice was tinged in anger, and who could blame him? He saw what Harry’s absence did to his best friend. He couldn’t hate Harry to his face, because Harry was living his dream.

 

But what about Louis? Harry was Louis’ dream.

 

“I know.” Louis soothed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just text him when I get home and let him know I’m awake. It’s what, two o’clock in Los Angeles? He’s probably busy.”

 

“If you say so.” Zayn left it at that.

 

They arrived to Louis’ flat a few moments later, and they all exchanged goodbye’s. Zayn hugged him longer and tighter than the others, and Louis felt the sudden urge to weep.

 

Zayn always saw right through him.

 

In the building, he waved to the concierge. He’d never gotten used to the fact that Harry’s money had bought them a flat that had a doorman and a concierge, but he now knew how to mask his shock every time he saw them.

 

The elevator ride up to his floor was quiet, as always. The elevator was empty, but even if it was full, he still never talked to people. Harry, on the other hand, would make conversation with anyone he saw.

 

Louis really missed him.

 

When the elevator stopped at the eighth floor, he stepped off and headed to their flat. Once inside, he locked it and took his shoes off. He sat them next to Harry’s pair of Chelsea boots, ignoring the twinge of sadness.

 

_If Harry’s boots were here, Harry should be here._

 

It wasn’t fair. He slid his coat off and made a decision. He wasn’t going to text Harry, he was going to call him. Harry would definitely remember a call more than a text.

 

Plopping down onto their plush couch, he pressed Harry’s contact and waited. He prayed and prayed that Harry wouldn’t be busy.

 

A few seconds later, the ringing stopped, and the call was answered.

 

“Hello?”

 

It was a female voice. Suddenly, his heart was being a mile a minute. 

 

“Uh, hi?” He was stunned into silence, but made himself speak. “Is Harry there?”

 

“Who is this?” The girl asked, no,  _demanded_. 

 

“This is Louis. Who is this?”

 

“This is Harry’s girlfriend, and he’s in the shower.”

-

 

 

Louis had always thought that the term ‘ _my life flashed before my eyes_ ’ was a bit silly, but now, he understood it more than he’d like to. After hanging up abruptly, tears welled up in his eyes. Every memory he had with Harry played in his mind like a movie.

 

_There they were, walking hand-in-hand across their university campus; fall leaves crunching under their feet. Matching Halloween costumes, birthday/Christmas sex. Harry holding him tightly in bed after his Nan passed away. Kissing at the pub, ignoring everyone’s pretend sighs of disgust._

 

_Harry telling him that they were going to get married._

 

No, _Harry_ promising _him_ _that they were going to get married._

He stood and turned his phone off. He walked down the hallway, keeping his eyes cast to the dark wood floors. The walls were covered in nothing but pictures of them, and it was a sick reminder of the shocking news he’d just received.

 

When he reached the kitchen, he moved about, filling a glass with water. His moves were robotic. He tried to take a sip, but his jaw was quivering too much. In the end, he sat the glass down and propped himself against the counter on shaking hands.

 

He’d always known that Harry’s sexuality was to be covered up. It was written in Harry’s contract, the contract that Harry had signed.

 

He was okay with it at first, because Harry had managed to stay ‘single’ for a year and a half after gaining worldwide fame.

 

Then, he had to be seen around with a few girls. Nothing major, nothing lasting. _Flings_ , the gossip columns had called them. “ _Womanizer Harry Styles Never Seen with Same Girl Twice”._

 

He was fine with it, though, because before every outing, Harry would call him, and explain it to him. Promise him that it had to be done, and the girls were usually college-aged, trying to earn money for school.

 

Of course, he had to be on board with it. He knew how expensive schooling was, and the girls seemed harmless.

 

But after Harry’s two year contract was up, he signed another, with different clauses, different terms and conditions. Now his flings lasted weeks, and gossip columns threw around words like _engaged!_ and _marriage on the horizon_?.

 

It drove him crazy.

 

But again, Harry would always promise him it was nothing. He was living his dream, so how could Louis not be okay with it?

 

The problem was, the calls kept getting shorter and further apart. Their last conversation, a week and a half ago, lasted two minutes and eight seconds, and ended with Harry talking to someone else in the background.

 

He’d never noticed that Louis had hung up.

 

That was the first time that Harry Styles had inadvertently and unknowingly broke his heart. That was the first time since dating Harry that he'd cried himself to sleep, never running out of tears. It was the first time he'd slept on the couch, away from their bed, the bed that smelled like Harry. 

 

Now, the calls were once in a blue moon, and he was always shocked to see Harry's name on his screen.  _Shocked_ that his own boyfriend was calling. When Harry had first left, he found it hard to sleep. Now, he slept perfectly, and that scared him. He'd gotten so used to being without Harry that he sometimes forgot he had a boyfriend. 

 

Whenever that would happen, his stomach would curl and nausea would bubble inside of him.  _How could he forget Harry_? Harry was unforgettable, a beaming star making his brand on the world. 

 

And Louis was just forgettable. 

 

-

 

The next morning, while laying in bed, Louis turned on his phone. The brightness bothered him, but he was unable to look away from the screen. He put his passcode in,  _0201 -_ _Harry's birthday_ , and waited for the notifications to pop up. When nothing happened for a minute straight, he shoved his phone under his pillow. Tears slipped out the corners of his eyes, and he was about to start sobbing, when he heard a little  _ping_. 

 

 _Harry_?

 

It wasn't. It was a text from Niall, that simply stated,  _Stay away from social media. We're on our way over_. 

 

Louis sniffled and wiped his eyes. What did Niall mean? And why were they on their way over at eight thirty in the morning? Curiosity, and a bit of self loathing, got the best of him, and he began searching. He soon wished he hadn't.

 

 _Harry Styles and Camille Anderson's Steamy Yacht Date_ -  _see pictures!_

 

 _Harry Styles posts cozy picture with Camille Anderson on Instagram and We're Swooning_. 

 

 _Who is Camille Anderson? Ten Things About the Model that Stole Harry Styles' Heart_. 

 

He clicked on the first article, and more tears welled up as he looked through the gallery of pictures. The girl - Louis refused to say her name - was topless for some of them, and sitting on Harry's lap for the rest. He got no comfort in the fact that she had slid the bikini top on to sit on Harry's lap. 

 

He opened Instagram next and headed straight to Harry's public page. Amongst all the black and white pictures was a new one, in full color. He clicked on it and was no longer able to suppress his cries. Harry was reclined on a chaise, with  _her_ in his lap, sprawled across him. His hand was on her waist and they were cuddling. 

 

He wouldn't have had such a strong reaction but that was the way he liked to lay on Harry when he was feeling ill. It was the quickest way to make him feel better, but now he just felt sick. Like he actually might throw up. His skin crawled just thinking of  _her_ skin pressed up against Harry's. 

 

Something compelled him to visit Harry's private Instagram, where there were nothing but pictures of them. It always made him feel better, especially since he'd posted one three weeks ago. It was a picture of him, of course, curled up in their bed, swathed in blankets. The sunlight hit him just right, Harry had said. He'd captioned it,  _Missing my favorite person in the world right now. I can't wait to sleep next to you again_. 

 

But the comfort Harry's private page gave him diminished completely, when he saw a new picture. It was of him and  _her_ , cheeks pressed together, captioned,  _Yacht life. I'm living my best life with the people I love around me_. 

 

At one point, Louis thought that  _he_ was someone Harry loved. And yet, here he was, laying in their bed alone, away from Harry for several weeks. He was a distant memory in Harry's mind, he had to be. There was no other explanation. 

 

-

 

Niall didn't even bother to knock on Louis' door. He and Liam and Zayn barged right in, arms full of junk food and alcohol, ready to soothe a distraught Louis. They expected him to laying in bed, sobbing his little heart out. 

 

What they didn't expect was to see him fully dressed, on the couch, with a bag packed beside him. 

 

They paused, exchanging confused glances. There were no traces of tears, though his eyes were rimmed with red. Liam, who felt the most paternal of the group, stepped forward and sat his back of snacks down on the coffee table. 

 

"Louis?" He asked gently. "You saw, didn't you?" 

 

Louis nodded and looked up at his friends. His eyes were wetter than they seemed. "Yeah." He croaked. He  _had_ been crying. 

 

"We're  _so_ sorry," Niall rushed forward, pulling a bottle of vodka from the grocery bag hooked on his arm. Thrusting it forward, he said, "Here. You can just drink from the bottle. We don't care." 

 

Louis took the bottle but sat it down. "I'm fine." He declined politely. "But I am glad you three are here." 

 

"Us too, mate." Zayn sat down next to him and wrapped his arm around Louis' shoulder. "We're going to spend the whole day together, no television, no cell phones, nothing. Just talking." 

 

"Actually, I was hoping that you three would help me move." Louis said, surprising them all. 

 

Liam was the first to break the silence. "Uh," He glanced at Niall and Zayn, who were speechless. "Why? I mean, sure, we'll help, but...why?" 

 

"I just want to move before he kicks me out." Was Louis' quiet, heartbreaking answer. 

 

Protective Niall jumped into action. "He wouldn't do that." He assured Louis. He hoped his words were convincing.  _As convincing of those pictures of Harry and Camille,_ he thought bitterly. 

 

"You know," Louis began, giving a watery laugh. "I wouldn't have ever thought that he would do half of the stuff he's been doing. But yet, he has. I - I don't know him anymore. I really don't. And I'm scared that he's just...given up on me." 

 

"He hasn't." Zayn promised, though he could  _kill_ Harry right now. 

 

"I called him last night, when I got home from Murphy's." Louis told them. He was fiddling with the band on his ring finger. Harry had the matching one, and while they weren't promise rings or engagement rings, sometimes, Louis liked to pretend they were. "And, um. A girl answered the phone. She said she was Harry's girlfriend and that he was in the shower." 

 

"Oh." Liam swallowed, suddenly wanting to blacken Harry's eyes. 

 

"I hung up, but I figured he'd call me back." He shrugged weakly. There was no energy left in his body. "Or that he'd call me and let me know that there would be pictures released yesterday, but he didn't. He used to always let me know. Reassure me, I guess." 

 

"I don't want to defend him, but maybe the yacht had no reception." Niall said as gently as he could. 

 

"He had enough reception to post those pictures on Instagram." Zayn bit out. 

 

"Maybe she didn't know that you were Harry's boyfriend." Liam thought. 

 

"I told myself that," Louis replied. "But then, I thought, if she didn't know who I was, then that means Harry never told her he's been in a committed relationship for five years. Something like that just doesn't slip your mind." 

 

None of the boys knew what to say. 

 

"So," Louis continued, openly crying. "He must not want her to know. He really must be done with me." 

 

Zayn moved closer to Louis and embraced him in a hug. "Don't say that." He ran his hand through Louis' hair and down his back. 

 

"Fucking Harry," Niall muttered, snatching Louis' phone up. 

 

"Don't call him," Louis pleaded. 

 

"Oh, I'm not." He promised, scoffing as he put in Louis' passcode. He should change it. "I'm blocking him. His number, his pages on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook." He tapped a bit longer and then clicked the phone shut with a triumphant look. "There. Now you'll never seen another post from him again." 

 

Louis took the phone with shaky hands. "Thank you." He appreciated it. He would never have the nerve to block Harry. He would continue to look at all the posts and pictures and cry. 

 

"As much as we hate this," Liam moved onto a different topic. "Are you sure you want to move?" 

 

Louis shrugged, and Liam had never seen him look so unsure, so heartbroken in his life. "I mean, the payments are automatic, so it's not like I'll be out of any money. I can take the perishable groceries with me...and that's about it." 

 

He glanced around the room. Though they'd picked out the furniture together, Harry had bought it all. In fact, everything in their flat was something Harry had bought. He couldn't rightfully take any of it. All he could take was his clothes. Maybe some pictures. 

 

"Where would you stay?" Liam asked, looking over at Zayn. The two shared their own flat, and they were squeezed in as tight as they could go. 

 

"With me." Niall decided. "In my bachelor pad." Niall was the only one who didn't have a significant other or a roommate. "And I promise to have no _guests_ over at all." It was no secret that Niall liked to entertain girls. 

 

"Thanks, Niall." Louis smiled, but it was more of a grimace. He was thankful for his supportive friends, but he didn't want to move out. He just wanted to get Harry's attention. 

 

"No problem." Niall saluted, then sat down in a plush armchair. "When do you want to move?" 

 

Louis shrugged and looked around. "I have some stuff in the bedroom. Harry bought all the furniture, so I can't take any of it." 

 

"Do you want..." Liam looked at Niall. "Any pictures or anything?" 

 

His heart clenched. He did, but he wanted Harry to see just how badly he was hurting. Leaving all their pictures behind would surely send a message. 

 

"I don't." He shook his head and stood. "I'd better go get the rest of my things. Do you mind taking this down to the car for me?" He gestured to the packed luggage bag sitting at his feet. 

 

"Course." Zayn stood and grabbed the handle of the bag. He was sure that he wasn't the only one in the room was feeling Louis' sadness. When Louis was gone, he turned to Niall and Liam, ready to speak, but his shrill ringtone rang through the air. He pulled it out of his pocket. 

 

"Who is it?" Niall asked, noticing how his Zayn's face changed. 

 

"Uh," Zayn swallowed. "It's Harry." Before thinking about it, he answered. 

 

"Zayn!" Harry sounded upset; frantic. " _Please_ tell me you're with Louis." 

 

Before replying, Zayn put it on speakerphone. "Why?" He wanted to know why Harry was so concerned for Louis  _now_. 

 

"He's not answering his phone. Is he okay? Are you with him?" Harry's sentence was rushed. 

 

"Yeah, we're with him." Zayn answered, eyes flickering up to his friends. 

 

Harry let out an audible sigh of relief. "Oh, good. Thank  _God_." Then, "Who's  _we_? Are Niall and Liam there too? Am I interrupting something? I can always call back later." 

 

Niall snorted. "Yeah, fuckin' sure." 

 

A long pause on Harry's end, then - "What's that supposed to mean?" 

 

"It means you're a piece of shit, Harry." Niall wasn't one to sugarcoat anything. 

 

"What the fuck?" Harry sounded angry, unjustly so. 

 

"When's the last time you spoke to him?" Liam jumped in, but his tone of voice wasn't as aggressive as Niall's was. Meet Liam Payne: The Peacekeeper. 

 

In Harry's silence, Niall answered for him. "A week and four days,  _mate_." He all but spat out. "But I guess that's better than the  _whole fucking month_ you spent ignoring his calls and texts." 

 

"We have the Rule now," Harry reminded Niall, a bite to his words. "And I haven't broken it since." 

 

"Our last phone call lasted two minutes and eight seconds." It wasn't Harry that spoke. Nor was it Zayn, Niall, or Liam. It was Louis, and they all turned to look at him, guilty expressions on their faces. He was clutching a toiletry bag and looked paler than a ghost. 

 

"Is that him?" Harry's voice asked. "Let me speak to him." 

 

Stepping forward, Louis waited until he was near the phone before continuing. "Our last conversation lasted two minutes and eight seconds, and you spoke to someone else in the background for a solid minute of it." His voice shook, and he tried to swallow it down. 

 

"Baby," Harry pleaded. "Take me into a different room. Let me talk to you." 

 

Louis bit his quivering lower lip and took the phone from Zayn. He wanted to hang up on Harry and smash the phone onto the hardwood floors, but it was Zayn's phone, and there was a bigger part of him that wanted to talk to Harry. 

 

With Zayn's quiet permission, he left and headed to their -  _his_ \- room. He closed the door and sat down on the bed. 

 

"I'm alone." He said quietly. 

 

"Baby," Harry said again. "I - " 

 

"What did you want to talk about?" Louis interrupted.  _Please explain your girlfriend situation to me, because I'm confused and scared._  

 

"You weren't answering your phone. I got worried." Harry explained. 

 

"It's off. I turned it off yesterday, and then when the boys came over this morning, they turned it off again. They didn't want me to look at certain things." He tried to sound nonchalant about it, but still his voice quivered, showing his true emotions.

 

"I've been meaning to tell you," Harry began and Louis thought,  _This is it. He's going to tell me and everything will be okay._ "I have to stay a few more weeks, but I'll be home right before Christmas. That way we can celebrate together." 

 

Ignoring his rolling stomach, Louis asked, "Celebrate what?" 

 

"Christmas, silly." Harry laughed, completely missing the point, and Louis felt as if his world was spinning.  _My birthday. You were supposed to say my birthday._

 

"Well, I have to go." He blinked back tears, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. It was a creamy white color, with swirls of gold. He'd spent time after time studying the patterns, from laying there after a fight with Harry, who would soon roll over and pull their bodies together, to sleepless nights with Harry snoring next to him. He could trace the swirls with his eyes closed. 

 

"Doing something with the boys?" Harry hummed, completely oblivious. 

 

"Yeah." He croaked, wanting to hit himself for letting his emotions show. "I'm sure you'll be busy with your girlfriend." 

 

"Wait - " Harry began frantically. 

 

"Don't call me again, because I won't answer." Louis said firmly. "And don't call my friends either." 

 

With that, he hung up, and his heart shriveled up and died. 

 

-

 

The second Louis had hung up on Harry and sat down dejectedly, Niall's phone rang in the living room. Without even looking, Niall knew it was Harry, and he was ready to lay his friend flat. When he answered, he had a spiel all ready to go, but Harry was talking a mile a minute. 

 

"Niall! Don't hang up!" Harry was saying. "I need to talk to Louis,  _please_ don't say no." 

 

"Why the fuck should I let you talk to him?" Niall snapped, rolling his eyes. 

 

"Speakerphone," Liam mouthed. He was curious to hear Harry's side of the story. 

 

Niall did as Liam asked and they all huddled around. "You're on speakerphone," Niall warned. "And your audience isn't a fan of you at the moment, so tread carefully." 

 

"Guys, you have to listen to me." Harry pleaded. "It wasn't my intention to hurt him. I was going to tell him, I swear, but - " 

 

"But you let the national news tell him first?" Zayn interrupted angrily. "You let him wait a week and four days before calling?" 

 

"I was  _busy_ , please, listen to me." Harry sounded exhausted and frustrated. "The news wasn't supposed to break until the weekend. The yacht pictures were all staged, obviously, and some paps must have had a drone or something,  _fuck_ , I don't know - "

 

"What about the pictures on your Instagrams? Both public  _and_ personal?" Liam questioned. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and he looked like a police officer interrogating a suspect. It was quite scary. 

 

"I had to post them to make it seem real." Harry explained. "My management went ahead and let the pictures leak and all I had to do was post them." 

 

"So why did you put the picture on your personal Instagram?" Niall asked. "You  _know_ how much Louis gets on there when he misses you. How do you think he felt when he saw that ridiculous fucking picture and that ridiculous fucking caption?"

 

Harry was stammering at that point. "I,  _fuck_ , Niall, I don't know. I don't know what goes on in my brain half the time. I just fucking miss Louis so much and I can't leave LA for another few weeks. I can't fucking  _function_ without him and I want to come home so badly. And  _now_ they're telling me I'll have to spend Christmas with Camille or whatever the fuck her name is and I keep pushing them to let me have it off because it's my baby's birthday and I want to spend it with him." 

 

Liam, Niall, and Zayn were silent, but Louis, who was standing in the doorway, wasn't. He let out a choked sob, and all three boys turned to look at him. They could tell he'd heard every word from Harry. 

 

"Louis?" Harry's voice crackled over the phone. "Baby, talk to me. I love you." 

 

"Let me - " Louis shuffled forward, hand reaching out for Niall's phone. "Let me talk to him again." 

 

Niall handed the phone over wordlessly and watched Louis scurry off again, already speaking lowly into the phone. 

 

"Do you think he meant it?" Zayn asked a beat later. He was skeptical of Harry, judging by everything that had happened the past few weeks. He wasn't fond of Harry at the moment. None of them were, and rightfully so, but it wasn't hard to believe that Harry was sincere. 

 

"I do," Liam nodded. "I don't want to, just because of what he's put Louis through, but I believe that he was pressured and cracked under it all." 

 

Niall couldn't help but agree. "I think he's scared. He's losing his mind in LA, and probably afraid that he's losing Louis too. That would make anyone crack." 

 

Zayn sighed and sat himself back down in the armchair. "I guess we'd order some food. We might be here awhile." 

 

-

 

Zayn was right. Louis was on the phone with Harry for an hour and twelve minutes, and by the time he'd emerged, his friends were bored and he was grinning from ear to ear. He handed Niall his phone back and sat down next to Zayn. 

 

"So?" Niall prompted immediately. He moved his eyebrows up and down. 

 

"Well, he apologized," Louis began, beaming. "And explained everything, from being ambushed with the pap pictures and Camille. He said that was the only time they'd hung out, and it would be the last for awhile. He  _also_ said that he had three days off coming up and that he was going to try to come home." 

 

"That's good. I'm happy for you." Zayn said, and he meant it. Louis deserved some happiness, and he deserved to have Harry around again. 

 

"So I'm going to assume that in those three days, you two want to be left alone?" Niall smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. 

 

Louis blushed, but nodded. It was no secret that he and Harry had a very healthy sex life, and whenever they had the chance to make love, they did. Anytime, anywhere. They just couldn't get enough of each other. 

 

There was an easy silence after that, until Niall, and Niall's stomach, broke it. 

 

"So, boys. Takeout?" He clapped his hands together and reached for his phone. 

 

-

 

Louis was a ball of nerves. It was twelve hours before Harry's plane was supposed to land at Heathrow, and he still had so much to do. The flat was clean, but he went over it again, sweeping and vacuuming, fluffing the throw pillows on the couch and making sure the fireplace was clean. He adjusted pictures on the walls and even dusted them. 

 

He wanted to make dinner, so after he made sure the flat was cleaner, he headed for the shops. He perused the aisles, gathering the ingredients for Harry's favorite meal. He was in such a good mood that not even the magazines by the checkouts could bother him. He ignored the headlines screaming Harry's name and  _her_ name and carried on with his life. 

 

After all, his life would be home in twelve hours. 

 

Back at the flat, he put the ingredients away, set an alarm, and took a short nap. He didn't know what to expect when Harry came home, but if it went anything like how he'd hoped, he would need to be well-rested. 

 

He laid down on the bed, Harry's side, and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure that he would be able to sleep with the amount of nerves coursing through his body, but he was wrong. He slept like a baby. 

 

-

 

Fourteen hours later, he was sitting at the table, watching the candles burn down. The food around him was undoubtedly cold, and he checked his phone clock again. Harry's plane landed two hours ago, and he still wasn't here. 

 

Traffic, maybe? Couldn't be. It was nearing ten o'clock at night. Harry should have been there shortly after his plane landed. 

 

Louis stood, dialing Harry's number. He paced the kitchen, listening to the phone ring and ring and ring. When it went to voicemail, Harry's voice happily telling him to  _leave a message or call back later - I'm sure I'll answer then_ _!_ , he hung up and sat his phone on the counter. 

 

He was sure that there was a reasonable explanation. Maybe Harry missed the flight. Or maybe he had the wrong time. Maybe Harry's plane was supposed to land later in the evening. A quick check of his text messages told him that no, Harry's plane was supposed to land at seven-thirty in the evening. 

 

Something akin to heartache bloomed in his chest, and he tried to ignore it as he cleared the table. Not one to waste food, he simply packaged it up and put it in the refrigerator. His throat tightened up when he blew out the candles, and a few tears slipped out as he did the dirty dishes. 

 

As he undressed and slid his pajamas on, he tried to think of a few reasonable explanations for Harry's absence. It could be that Harry thought it would be too late to disturb him and got a hotel room.  _It was only seven-thirty when he landed_. 

 

Maybe Harry missed his flight and was on a different one, that's why he didn't answer his phone. Yes, that was it. It had to be. He felt better as he slipped into bed, curling up on Harry's side. Grabbing his phone, he shot off a quick text to Harry:  _call me when you land xoxo i miss you._  

 

He fell asleep still holding his phone. 

 

-

 

The next morning, he looked at his phone with bleary eyes. The time - nine twenty-nine am - was the only thing on his screen. No calls, no text messages, nothing. The hurt he felt from last night only intensified, and he clicked his phone off and shoved it under his pillow. Then, in a moment of anger, he tugged it back out and unlocked it. He stabbed Harry's contact with his pointer finger and listened to it ring. 

 

He got five rings in before hanging up. 

 

Harry wasn't going to answer. He wasn't going to call back, or text him. It was obvious that Harry had forgotten about their three days together. It was obvious that he didn't care enough to even remember. 

 

With a tight throat and tears pricking at the backs of his eyes, he even thought that maybe _he_ wasn't good enough for Harry to even remember. 

 

He wanted to spend the whole day in bed. He was grateful that he'd taken three days off of work and turned his class work early, but he wouldn't be able to enjoy his time off. He couldn't do anything without thinking that Harry should be with him. 

 

He laid in bed for ten more minutes, finally getting up when his stomach growled. He padded into the kitchen, the bottoms of his (Harry's) pajama pants dragging the wooden floor. When he opened the refrigerator door, he ignored the shelf housing the dinner he'd made last night and grabbed a package of bacon. He put it on the counter and stared at it. Then, he put it back. 

 

He wasn't in the mood to cook anything. He was in the mood to order food from the 'emergency' credit card Harry had given him. He made his way back into the bedroom to grab his phone, only to hear it ringing from the hallway. 

 

He hurried his pace, thinking that it was Harry.  _Hoping_ that it was Harry. When he reached the bed, he picked it up with an expectant smile, but it was only Zayn. He took a few deep breaths before answering. 

 

"Hey," He greeted quietly, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed. 

 

"Hey," Zayn replied, too chipper for nine forty-five in the morning. "How was your night?" 

 

"It was good." Louis answered, lying through his teeth. 

 

"How's Harry?" Zayn asked next. And though Louis couldn't see his friend, he  _felt_ Zayn's eyebrows wiggle. 

 

"I uh," He cleared his throat. "I wouldn't know." 

 

There was a short pause on Zayn's end. "What do you mean? Did you get the flight information wrong? Does his plane land today?" 

 

"No, it landed last night." Louis told him. He glanced at Harry's empty side of the bed. "He just wasn't on it." 

 

"He missed it?" A tone of disbelief.

 

"On purpose." Now his heart was beating faster and his stomach was sick. "He didn't answer any of my calls or texts last night." 

 

"That  _fucker_ ," Zayn swore lowly. "Son of a bitch." 

 

"Zayn - " Louis began, beginning to nervously pace. "It's fine, really - " 

 

"It's  _not_ fine, Louis!" Zayn exclaimed. "He knew how much this meant to you! He  _knew_ that you missed him, and he had the chance to come home and he didn't. That's not okay. Don't make excuses for him." 

 

"I'm not. At least, I don't think I am." Louis defended himself weakly. 

 

"You're way more important than whatever the fuck he's doing." Zayn ranted. There was a detectable heat in his voice, even though it had lowered an octave or two. 

 

"Am I?" He couldn't help but ask. Of course he was, but with Harry's recent changes and the overwhelming fame he'd received, Louis couldn't help but feel...inadequate. A roadblock in Harry's road to success, and he voiced such concerns to Zayn. 

 

"You are  _not_ a roadblock. You and Harry have been together for five years. You are the most important thing to him in the world. Period." Zayn told him firmly. 

 

But even with the affirmation, there was still a niggling feeling in the pit of Louis' stomach. It seemed to ask,  _how much more of this can we take?_

 

-

 

Two days later is when everything collapsed on top of Louis. He'd been living the past two days in silence, waiting to hear from Harry, who was still seemingly MIA, and binge watching the television. He tried to steer clear of the entertainment channels, but he was a glutton for punishment, and found himself watching them religiously, trying to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend. 

 

He kept the channel on for background noise as he decorated the flat for Christmas. He'd pulled down their six-foot Christmas tree and it was half decorated. The top half was left empty, as that was Harry's place to decorate. He had the bottom half. 

 

Garland was strung across the hearth of the fireplace, and their stockings were hung. Snowglobes were put out, alongside little snowman figurines. Multicolored lights framed each doorway, and mistletoe was hung. 

 

He was attempting to strategically place tinsel on the tree when something on the television caught his attention. Hands clutching the tinsel, he sank down onto the couch and watched. 

 

" _Just days before Christmas, we have the Harry Styles exclusive interview!"_ The smiling reporter said. A clip began playing, and it was of Harry, looking dapper in a floral suit, hair pushed back. He had two fingers playing with his lower lip, and the matching ring he wore on his fourth finger seemed to mock Louis. 

 

" _Harry, you've been so busy lately!"_ The woman interviewing him stated.  _"From touring the United States, to living in LA. How does it feel to have risen to fame so quickly?"_

 

Harry took his time answering, mulling over what he wanted to say. " _It's been marvelous._ " He finally settled on.  _"It's been fantastic. I have the best fans in the world. I would be nowhere without them._ " 

 

The interviews  _aw'd_ and read from another card.  _"With all of your fame, how do you find time for a social life?"_

 

 _"The fame_ is _my social life."_ Harry laughed. " _It really is. Being able to perform on stage, and sing for thousands of people a night...it's really better than a pub night."_

 

Louis drew back in shock. Was Harry making a dig at their pub night ritual? 

 

 _"Do you have time to date? Or are you focusing on your career right now?"_  

 

This was it. Sitting at the edge of his seat, Louis' eyes were glued to the screen. His heart was beating fast in his chest and his stomach was rolling. Was Harry about to come out on national television? Was he about to proclaim his five year relationship with the love of his life? Nerves and excitement bubbled up inside of him. 

 

Grinning, Harry readjusted himself in his seat.  _"Yeah, actually. I'm dating."_ His smile was so wide and Louis couldn't help but mimic it. 

 

" _Tell me more!"_ The interviewer urged. 

 

_"Well, we've been trying to keep it on the down low, you know, but sometimes, you just want to scream it to the world. Uh, you may have seen the pictures on Instagram, of Camille and I - "_

 

 _"We certainly have!"_ The woman interrupted, and a few seconds later, a thumbnail picture of Harry and Camille on the yacht popped up in the corner of the screen. 

 

" _She's really incredible. We haven't been dating for very long, but I see it lasting awhile."_ Harry's grin was sincere, almost mocking. He was staring into the camera, as if he knew his boyfriend would be watching. 

 

Louis' heart shattered into a million pieces. A thousand thoughts were running through his mind. _Did Harry do this on purpose? Was this his way of breaking up with me? What do I do now_? 

 

No, he knew what to do. With shaky fingers, he dialed Niall's number. When his friend answered, that was all it took for him to begin sobbing.

 

"Niall? I'd like to come live with you now, if that's okay." 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ENJOY! xoxo

Living with Niall was a completely different world. Not only was his Irish friend  _not_ Harry, but everywhere he turned, Louis expected to see the decor that he and Harry had so lovingly and painstakingly picked out over several hours. He expected to see the ornate rug that Harry had gotten in Morocco, or the vintage lamp that they'd accidentally found at a flea market. 

 

He expected to see Harry, too. But that didn't happen. As far as he knew, it would never happen again, because he and Harry were no longer together. Harry was no longer in love with him, and Harry had a girlfriend and worldwide success and tons of money. 

 

And all Louis had was an ill-paying job at the library, uni courses, and...that was it. In fact, without Harry by his side, he felt pretty worthless. He felt stupid to believe all of the things Harry had promised him, like marriage, and buying houses for each season. 

 

He knew Niall was being as supportive as he could be, allowing Louis to day drink and joining him every time. He let his sad friend have complete access to the television and even queued up the sad, romantic movies for him every now and then, just so that he would have an excuse to cry. He listened when Louis complained about Harry and he listened when Louis cried about him. He offered his advice. 

 

But even that didn't help. Louis was still so fixated on how easily Harry could break his heart. Harry had a hold on him, and he'd had it ever since they met. It was sad, and some might even call it pathetic. He liked to think of it as being so incredibly in love. But he'd learned that it seemed to be not enough for Harry. It broke his heart to think that his love wasn't good enough, or that he wasn't good enough. Pretty enough or thin enough or rich enough. 

 

Harry had changed when he became famous, and even though he pretended he hadn't, it was clear to Louis. 

 

-

 

"Do you work today?" Niall wandered into the kitchen, gnawing on a slice of pizza. Where he got it, Louis didn't know. 

 

"Yes." He answered, barely glancing up from his homework. In the week that he'd moved in with Niall, he buried himself in his work at the library and his work at the university to keep his mind off of Harry. When he wasn't at school, he was studying. When he wasn't studying, he was working. 

 

"What time?" Niall tossed the pizza crust onto the counter and opened the fridge. From there, he produced another piece.  _When did they last have pizza_? "Liam and Zayn want to get together tonight. They said they want to talk to us." 

 

"I can't tonight, Niall. I've got a night class that ends at six and then I'm working at the library until ten-thirty." 

 

Niall frowned. "The library closes at nine. Why are you working until ten-thirty?" 

 

"I told Janet that I'd sort and file all of the new books she ordered." Louis answered, closing his history book. He was finished with the coursework anyway, he was just going over the material again and making notes. 

 

"You've been working an awful lot lately." Niall noted. "Why?" 

 

"You know why." Was Louis' clipped response. He'd been working so hard to make himself sound nonchalant and unbothered when presented with anything related to Harry. He didn't think he was fooling anyone. He slid his book back into his bag and closed it. He needed to make sure he had it at the library so he could study some more later. He stood, stretched, and walked to the refrigerator, which was a mere few steps away from the table. Sadly, their kitchen was more like a closet than a kitchen. 

 

With a single refrigerator, stove, and barely enough space for a microwave, Niall had made due with what he had - and could afford. He'd made the kitchen lively, with sprigs of herbs in jars lined up on the window sill right above the sink and posters of their university's cheer team hung above the table. Louis had tried in vain to get him to hang up the calendar the lacrosse team had made up for charity, but Niall held firm on  _no_. That had to stay in his bathroom, Niall had firmly told him. 

 

He bent over and opened the refrigerator. Pushing around the bottles of beer and boxes of pizza and Chinese takeout, he sighed. "I'll get something after class." He said, standing upright again. "Wanna meet me?" 

 

Niall, who still looked unimpressed, shrugged. "I shouldn't, but might as well. If it's important, Zayn and Liam will want to tell us together." 

 

"Awesome." Louis beamed at his friend. He grabbed his bag, planted a kiss on Niall's cheek, and bounced down the hall, ignoring Niall's sounds of disgust. His relatively good mood lasted him to the bus stop, and then went to total shit. When the bus wheezed up, Harry's picture was plastered across the side, advertising his newest album. He turned and pushed through the group of people waiting to get on. 

 

The university was two miles away, and with no money for a cab or an Uber, he began to trudge along. He was careful of ice and snow, wearing only his Converse, and made sure to avoid others. Pulling his book out of his bag, he decided to do a little bit more studying. He was so absorbed with reading that he almost missed his phone ringing. Tucking the book into his bag quickly, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket and faltered. 

 

It was Harry. 

 

He had a split-second to decide whether to answer it or ignore it. He was weak, and he answered it with trembling fingers. "Hello?" He tried to make his voice even, but if Harry happened to ask, he'd blame it on the cold weather. 

 

"Babe!" Harry crowed on the other end, laughing. It sounded like he was at a party. 

 

"Hi." Louis answered back, chewing on his bottom lip. 

 

"I'm calling because my mum wanted me to ask you what your favorite kind of pie was. She's making a few for Christmas." Harry sounded so...distant. Like he would rather be partying than calling him. 

 

In his chest, his heart gave a lurch. They'd been dating for  _how long_ and Harry didn't know what his favorite type of pie was? It hurt worse than it should have, considering Louis made it at least twice a month. 

 

"Louis? You there?" Harry asked. 

 

"Yes." He answered. "I - you - you should know." 

 

With an exasperated and bothered sigh, Harry said, "I really don't have time for this, please just tell me." 

 

Anger welled up inside of him, and public or not, he began to speak. "Figure it out your damn self. You don't have time for  _anything_ anymore that doesn't involve yachts and models. We've been dating for five years."

 

A pause, and then, "What does that have to do with anything? Listen, if you want to talk, let me leave the party - " 

 

A tiny sob escaped his lips, but he forced it back down. "It has  _everything_ to do with - " 

 

"Hold on a sec," Was Harry's interruption, and honestly, why did he even try? Why did he try to reach out to Harry? Why did he give his boyfriend so many second chances to apologize and make him feel better? 

 

"Harry..." Louis laughed bitterly. "Fuck you. Tell your mum that I'm not going to Christmas. I think it'll be a little crowded with me and your girlfriend." He hung up the phone, ignoring the fact that he could hear Harry protesting. He shoved the heels of his hands onto his eyes and tried to muffle what little cries he was giving. He didn't want people in his uni class to ask questions that he didn't want to answer. 

 

-

 

Normally, Louis would be taking detailed notes, but ever since the phone call he'd received, and the fight they'd had, he couldn't focus. His mind kept trailing to Harry, and the pictures on his Instagram, and the uninterested phone calls. 

 

He wondered, at what point did the heart fully break? Could he raise his hand and ask his history professor? Would that be appropriate, or would it just tell everyone that he was a big, stupid loser with zero self respect? 

 

He could just wait to vent to his friends later, via group text, as he would need something to do while working overtime later that evening at the library. It would take his mind off of being in the big, empty place on his own. Sometimes, it was soothing. Other times, it was scary. 

 

"Psst," A finger jabbed him in his side, effectively startling him out of his self-pitying thoughts and back into the real world. He glanced over. It was Patrick, the cute, preppy lacrosse player who had sat next to him for the whole semester. 

 

Somehow, they'd never spoken to each other until now. 

 

"Yes?" 

 

"My pen ran out of ink," Patrick explained, waving said pen around in the air. "Can I borrow one of yours?" 

 

"Oh," Louis pulled his arms away from his desk and looked down. His own was sitting atop his blank notebook - he'd have to ask the professor for notes - and there was another pressed right against the rings of the notebook, just in case. He picked it up and handed it over and couldn't help but notice just how big Patrick's hands were. Not as big as Harry's, but they were a decent size. 

 

He had a thing for hands, and suddenly, all he could think about was Harry's hands on his body, running down his back, settling at his waist, squeezing. He wanted nothing more than that, but unfortunately, it would never happen again. 

 

"Thanks." Patrick smiled, and it was warm, and inviting, but nothing special. No dimples, no goofy teeth behind red lips. No green eyes to pair it with. 

 

"Yeah, you can keep it. I have several others." Louis said, turning back to his desk. He felt an internal push to flirt, to hurt Harry as much as he was hurting, but he loved Harry too much to do that. He couldn't bear to be the reason behind Harry's pain. 

 

"Great." Patrick saluted and turned back to his own work. 

 

With a sigh, he began jotting down notes. He didn't know why he felt disappointed in the fact that Patrick didn't flirt with him. He should feel relief. Was he going absolutely mad? What was he thinking? Cheating on Harry - 

 

He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. He was so incredibly frustrated and mad and sad and so many other emotions at the same time. 

 

"Hey," Patrick leaned forward again, a look of concern etched across his handsome face. "Are you okay?" 

 

"Yes." Louis answered, because that's what he was used to. But he was sick of it. "Actually, no. I'm not." 

 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Patrick looked sincere, and it might be nice to vent a little. 

 

"I mean..." He sighed and sat his pen down. He wouldn't get to take notes today, no matter how hard he tried to focus. "Do you care? I mean, we hardly know each other. I would feel weird telling you my problems." 

 

Patrick smiled. "Sometimes that's the easiest. And yes, I care. We could go to the cafe tonight?" 

 

"Oh, I'd love to. But I actually work at the library tonight." Louis said, and he was really disappointed. "But we could go for lunch tomorrow? I don't have any classes and I'm off of work." 

 

"Lunch sounds great. My last class gets out at eleven-thirty. We could meet then." Patrick suggested. He began scribbling on his paper. "Here is my number. Text me later?" 

 

Louis accepted the number and tucked it safely in his backpack pocket. "I will. Now, if you'll excuse me. I need to attempt to write down some notes." He giggled at Patrick's little salute and turned his attention back to the professor. 

 

It did him no good. They were leased from class three minutes later. 

 

-

 

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it tonight," Louis said into his phone, labeling a book and sliding it into its proper place on the shelf. His phone was resting between his ear and the crook of his neck, and he would definitely feel it tomorrow morning. 

 

"It's okay." Zayn's voice was clear over the phone, so he must be outside of the club or restaurant or wherever they'd decided to go. "You didn't miss much." 

 

"I thought you and Liam had news?" He asked, pushing the little squeaky cart further down the aisle. He picked up a book about medieval history and squinted to read the spine. 

 

"We do. We're going to wait to tell you and Niall." Zayn informed him, coughing. "We really want you two to be there together." 

 

Louis paused. "Are you two okay?" He slid the book in next to a few others. "You aren't breaking up are you?" 

 

Zayn barked out a laugh. "No! God, no. We've been together for three years. What's the point of breaking up, really?" 

 

Biting his lip, Louis pushed the cart again and chose not to reply.  _What_ was _the point of breaking up after so long together?_   What was the point of being in a committed relationship, loving each other and promising marriage, going through the ups and downs, only to cheat and be cheated on? 

 

"Oh." Zayn said a few moments later. "Shit, I'm sorry. Fuck, Louis. I didn't think." 

 

"It's okay." He said quietly. "You had nothing to do with it. It's fine." 

 

"It's not, though." Zayn stressed. "You deserve - " 

 

"I know I deserve more." He sighed and rolled the cart to the front desk. It was ten-twenty-one. He had nine more minutes to kill, and he'd do that sitting down and talking to his friend. "I deserve better than Harry. I deserve to be with someone who doesn't cheat on me." 

 

"Have you talked to him at all lately?" 

 

"Yeah, actually. Today, as I was walking to class. He called from a party I guess, to ask me what my favorite pie was. His mum is making a few for Christmas." 

 

"What did you say?" Zayn asked. 

 

"I told him I wasn't going to Christmas with him. I told him that it would be a little crowded with me, him, and his girlfriend." 

 

"That's - " Zayn huffed out a laugh. "That's actually badass. What did he say?" 

 

"I don't know. I hung up the phone." Louis answered. Then, he swallowed hard and hot tears pricked at his eyes. "He hasn't tried to call me again." 

 

Zayn was silent. "Oh. I'm sorry, Louis. That's shitty. He's shitty." 

 

"I know he is." Louis leaned his head back and blinked back tears. He gazed through the skylight, which was partially covered in snow. "And the sad thing is, I  _want_ to go to Christmas. I want him to call me and ask me to go again. Isn't that horrible?" 

 

" _No_ ," Zayn said. "No. You're in love and in a shitty situation. Harry's been shitty to you but he's still Harry. You can't just forget about that. No matter how hard Liam or Niall or I want you to, you can't." 

 

Louis turned his gaze from the skylight to the empty rows of books. He was glad Zayn understood, and didn't try to psychoanalyze him or their relationship. "It sucks. I wish I didn't love him so much. You know," He pulled at a little tear on his jeans. "Sometimes I wish he wasn't so famous. Sometimes I wish he was still singing in bars." 

 

"I know you do. I think we all wish that sometimes." Zayn felt bad for saying so. Harry was his friend, but he'd known Louis longer. "Hey, I have to go. But we'll talk tomorrow, okay? We should do something." 

 

"That's good." Louis looked at the clock across from him. It was ten-thirty. He could leave. He stood and stretched. "I'm off tomorrow. I have lunch plans, but we can - " 

 

"Wait," Zayn interrupted. "What?" 

 

Oh. Shit. He hadn't meant to let it slip that he was going to lunch with Patrick. "Oh, um." He rounded the front desk and went to gather his things. "Someone from my class asked me to lunch. Well, actually, he asked me to dinner, but I was working." 

 

"Who is it? Do I know them?" 

 

"His name is Patrick." Louis told him. "He's really sweet." 

 

"Do you like him?" Was Zayn's next question.

 

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he pulled the keys from his pocket and went to lock up. The wind whipped at his face, making him wish he'd zipped up his coat before leaving. "I mean...I don't know him. He's nice enough. He asked if I was okay." 

 

"What does he look like?" Zayn asked, and Louis could hear a bottle crack open on the other end. 

 

"Tall." Louis said. "Not as tall as Harry. Um...reddish hair. Nice eyes." 

 

"Did you just describe Prince Harry?" Zayn chuckled, and it made Louis smile. 

 

"Sounds kind of like him, huh?" He grinned. "Think he's available to take me out tomorrow?" 

 

"Tweet him a bunch of times." Zayn suggested. "I've heard it works sometimes."

 

"That takes too much effort." Louis pulled on the library doors, making sure he'd locked them properly, and took off down the steps. He was going to walk home, as it wasn't very far, and it wasn't too cold out. "I'll just park my arse outside of Buckingham Palace." 

 

"Could be good." Zayn hummed. "Bag yourself a proper prince."

 

"I'd be in heaven." He coughed into his elbow. "It's fucking cold outside. And dry. I can hardly breathe." 

 

"Well, it's December, and snowing." Zayn's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Are you walking home?"

 

"Yeah." Louis answered, peering down every alley he passed. He wasn't paranoid, per say. But he wanted to be ready in case someone popped out of one. 

 

"You know Liam and I would have given you a ride home." Zayn sighed. Sometimes he couldn't deal with his friend's stubbornness. 

 

"That's pointless, and a waste of your time and gas. You two live way outside of the city, and I live five blocks away." Louis said. "But, you can stay on the line with me until I get to Niall's. That would make up for it." 

 

"As if I'd hang up. I can't believe you're walking." 

 

"I need the exercise. Have to tone up my arse." He patted his bum, as if Zayn could see. 

 

"You're ridiculous." Zayn muttered. 

 

"But you love it." He grinned. 

 

They continued to chat until Niall's building grew closer and closer, and didn't say their goodbye's until Louis was pulling his key out and unlocking the door. With the promise of getting together, Louis hung up and entered the dark apartment. 

 

"Niall must be at a pub." He said to himself, kicking his shoes off. He shivered as he shrugged his coat off and hung it on the rack. He walked through the dark flat until he reached the kitchen. Turning on the light above the stove, he wandered over to the fridge and was relieved to see leftover Chinese takeout. 

 

He grabbed a few boxes, a fork, and headed to the living room. He plopped himself onto the couch and flicked the television on. It was already showing a  _Friends_ rerun, so he settled in and ate until his tummy was full. 

 

As he was finishing up, his phone pinged. It was a text message from Patrick.  _Still on for tomorrow?_ he wanted to know. Once more, guilt flooded his body. What would Harry think if he knew that his boyfriend was considering going on a date?

 

Then, he thought, what does it matter? Harry had made it clear time and time again that Louis has no place in his life. With every Instagram post and forty-second phone call, he'd made it obvious that he was living his dream and Louis wasn't apart of it. 

 

Guilt was replaced with resentment, and he replied,  _Sure! What time did you want to meet?_  

 

Once the message was delivered, there was no turning back. Surprisingly, he wasn't nervous or worried about it. He was actually excited. For once, since Harry had shot to stardom, he didn't feel neglected or unwanted. He felt desired, which was a little weird, because it wasn't Harry, but a little nice, for the same reason. 

 

He had no urge to call or text Harry and throw it in his face, even though it would serve him right. He deserved to be sitting on a yacht somewhere with models and sports stars and other musicians and receive a picture of Louis having fun with someone else. He deserved to open his private Facebook and see  _Louis Tomlinson has changed his relationship status from 'in a relationship' to single._ And then to see it say,  _Louis Tomlinson is in a relationship with Patrick Wallace_. Or  _in a relationship with literally anyone else._  

 

With this newfound confidence, he threw the Chinese away and pranced to his bathroom, phone in hand. He was preparing for a shower when it pinged. Another message from Patrick.  _The student cafe? Noon?_

 

It sounded good, but he knew of something better. He replied,  _Noon is good, but I know somewhere better. It's within walking distance ;)._

 

He locked his phone and stripped off his clothes. He was going to take a long, well-deserved shower and then get plenty of rest for his date tomorrow. 

 

-

 

The next morning, he was greeted by a text message from Patrick, which included a winking emoji and a grinning emoji, and his heart fluttered. It was stupid and very much what a thirteen year old might swoon over, but it was honestly the first text from a boy he'd received in a long time, and it made him feel special. 

 

Remembered. 

 

He responded and staggered out of bed. He had a little less than three hours until he had to meet Patrick. Enough time to eat breakfast and shower again, and take time picking out his outfit that would make Patrick's eyes linger on his best assets. 

 

Niall was in the kitchen, hunched over their Keurig, courtesy of Harry, and something Louis refused to use because of it. It was spilling tea into a chipped mug, and Louis wanted to scoff at how simply Niall made his tea. 

 

"Long night?" He asked his friend, startling the blond. He turned with a scowl. 

 

"Very." He yawned into his palm. When the Keurig was done, Niall grabbed the mug and took a long sip, not even feeling the burn. 

 

"What did you end up doing?" He opened the fridge and pulled out the bacon. That and some pancakes would be perfect for the snowy morning they were having. "Or do I want to know?" 

 

"Nothing gross." Niall rolled his eyes and sat at their table. "Make some for me, would ya?" 

 

Louis nodded. "One step ahead of you." He was already putting enough bacon in the frying pan to feed five people. "Did you hang out with Valerie? Or was she not at the pub?" 

 

Niall scowled again and settled his forehead in the palm of his hand. "She wasn't there. I sat at the pub with Olly until one, eating until I felt sick and listening to him talk about his thesis. If I ever become that boring, you have my permission to kill me." 

 

"I think you like to exaggerate." Louis sighed fondly. He mixed up the pancake powder and began pouring them into a skillet. "Do you want blueberries?"

 

Niall paused, giving him a look. "Seriously? It's like you don't even know me - " 

 

"Chocolate chips it is." He interrupted, grabbing them from the cabinet. "A healthy amount, too. Seems like you need it." 

 

"What I need is hair of the dog and a cheeseburger." Niall replied, letting his head drop onto the table. 

 

Louis turned the sizzling bacon. "I have a date today." He said casually. 

 

Silence, and then, "You  _what_?!" Niall shrieked. His hangover must have disappeared. 

 

"Yeah. A guy from my history class. Patrick. He asked to borrow a pen in class yesterday and asked how I was doing." 

 

"And that somehow led to a date?" Niall sounded skeptical. 

 

"No. I gave him the pen and then starting thinking of why he didn't try to flirt with me, or whatever. I kept thinking that no one flirted with me and I have no one, you know, typical feeling sorry for myself bullshit, and I guess he noticed how sad I got. He asked it I was okay and we talked for a few minutes, and then he just asked me to lunch. Well, actually, he asked me to dinner, but I had to work last night. So we're meeting for lunch today." 

 

"Where at?" Niall asked. 

 

"Uh," He ducked his head and laid the cooked bacon onto paper towels, trying to get rid of some of the grease. "Sully's." 

 

Niall choked on the sip of his tea he was taking. "Sully's?" He repeated. " _Sully_ _'s_?" 

 

"Yes, Niall. Sully's." He sighed, flipping the pancakes. 

 

"That's where - " Niall sat his tea down and turned to stare at his friend. "You went there with Harry. On your first date together. That's your place." 

 

"So I'm automatically banned from going there with anyone but Harry?" He snapped, turning to Niall. "Sorry Niall, but that's not how it works." 

 

"I know that, Louis, but you two go there annually. Like, you make a thing of it. It's  _your_ spot. Lou, you two go there whenever something good happens to one another. Acing an exam, or getting your flat together. Fuck, just when look at each other for too long you go there to celebrate." 

 

"If you're about to ask me what Harry will think, then save it. Harry won't think about it because he won't  _care_ , Niall." He plated the bacon and pancakes and turned. "He's forgotten about me and he's forgotten about you. He's forgotten about everyone who's supported him from day one. As soon as he signed his record deal, he didn't want to associate with anyone who didn't have a six figure bank account." 

 

He sat the plate on the table in front of Niall and walked to the doorway of the kitchen. "I'm not angry at you, Niall." He turned around. "I'm so fucking mad at Harry I could scream. I want to wring his neck for doing this to me - to  _us_. I want to shake him until he finally sees what he's done. But more importantly, I want to forget about him, just for a little bit. And having lunch with Patrick will help. So let me have this without the guilt trip." 

 

Niall nodded wordlessly, mouth open slightly. "Sure, Lou. Anything you want." He stood and shuffled awkwardly towards his friend. "I want you to be happy." 

 

"Me too, Niall." He sighed. He let Niall fold him into a hug and he closed his eyes. "Me too." 

 

-

 

Sully's Bistro and Tea Room was exactly what one might expect. The cobblestones outside led you through black French doors, into a dimly lit room. Ivy climbed the walls behind the cash register and to the left of the register was a pastry case, filled with all sorts of delectable desserts. A chalkboard sign behind the register boasted the name and hours of the bistro. 

 

To the left was the actual bistro, filled with tables and chairs scattered about over a white oak floor. A pub counter was pressed to one wall, and behind the counter was the kitchen. To the right was the tea room, a lighter room with bright colors and eccentric flowers hanging from the ceilings. 

 

When Louis and Patrick entered, they decided to go to the bistro first, and would hit the tea room last, to tie up their date. They got to pick their own table, and because he felt like it, Louis led them to the table he and Harry had their first date. 

 

"I'm starving." Patrick said, shrugging his coat off. He hung it on the back of his chair and picked up his menu. His cheeks were red from the cold outside, and somehow made his face even more handsome. 

 

"I am too. I didn't eat breakfast." Louis picked up his own menu and pretended to browse it, as if he didn't already know half of it by heart. 

 

"Sleep late?" 

 

"No...I made breakfast. Just didn't feel like eating it." Louis didn't want to get into the whole mess of his morning, so he changed the subject. "How was your class?" 

 

With that, Patrick went into a lengthy speech about his math professor and how it was unconstitutional to give a pop quiz at nine-thirty in the morning, especially one over math. Sadly, Louis could relate. 

 

"And to top it off," Patrick finished. "I ran into my ex on the way here." 

 

Louis' ears perked up, and he looked up from his menu. "Ex?" 

 

Patrick looked sheepish. "Yeah...we broke up a few months ago. I haven't really seen him around campus, which is good. But sort of surprising when they just pop up randomly." 

 

"Tell me about it." He agreed quietly. 

 

"What about you?" Patrick asked next. "Not to pry, but do you have an ex? I sort of guessed when you were looking sad the other day in class. You kept checking your phone, so I made my own assumption." 

 

"You're right." Louis told him. "I uh, I have a sort-of ex." 

 

Patrick raised a brow. 

 

"I'll explain." Louis promised. Was he really going to do this? Was he going to tell Patrick about Harry and how famous he was and how everything turned to shit in the past few months? Would he sound crazy? Would Patrick fake a phone call and leave through the bathroom door? 

 

"No need," Patrick sensed how uncomfortable he was getting. 

 

It was relieving, but deep down, he  _wanted_ to tell Patrick. Not about the whole famous-boyfriend thing, but just that he had a maybe-boyfriend and things were shitty at the moment. 

 

"I'll tell you. So, uh, he's off, uh, abroad. And he's doing all sorts of things and meeting all sorts of people. But he's sort of forgotten about me." He flinched when Patrick's face morphed into one of pity. "It sucks, actually, because our phone calls last for maybe fifty seconds, and we don't even talk. I want to talk, but it's like he calls me just to have me hear how much fun he's having." 

 

"That's shitty." 

 

"Right. It is. He's been, uh, posting pictures lately and there with this... _person_ , and this person is always around him. And uh, I just think he's cheating on me. But he won't ever answer the phone when I call or text, so I'm not really sure. I've never gotten the chance to confront and accuse him. We're supposed to be spending Christmas with his parents but I told him to go alone and take Cam -  _this person_." 

 

Patrick was silently staring at him with wide eyes. It took him a moment to blink and say, "That's a lot to unload on someone." 

 

Shoulders sagging, he nodded. "I know. I'm sor - " 

 

"No, what I meant to say is that it's a lot for one person to carry." Patrick clarified. He looked sort of pissed on Louis' behalf, which was refreshing. It was nice to have someone in his corner. "How long have you been dealing with this?" 

 

Picking at the frayed edge of his menu, he shrugged. "A few months. Maybe more." 

 

"How long have you two been together?" 

 

"Years." He answered. "I just - I thought I knew him. But I guess you learn a lot about someone when they're not around." 

 

Patrick slid his arm across the table and put his hand on top of Louis' smaller one. It was warm and nice, and made him feel a lot better. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this. It's not fair. I think you're great, and whoever your ex is, he's a massive prick." 

 

He smiled ruefully. "I wish I could agree, but I'm not at that stage yet." 

 

At that, Patrick barked a laugh and removed his hand. Louis found himself missing the warmth of it. 

 

"That's a good attitude to have." Patrick gave him a wink and began to read his menu. Louis was unable to look away until someone appeared to take their orders. 

 

"You know what, I'll start out with a glass of scotch." Patrick said. "And then I'll have - " 

 

"Wait," Louis interrupted. "Can I recommend you something?" 

 

"Sure." Patrick agreed with an easy smile. 

 

"Get the tenderloin pie. It's divine." His heart was pounding as he said it, knowing full well that it was what Harry got every single time they went there. But he wanted it that way. He wanted Harry to hear about how he took someone to  _their_ spot and suggested them the food that  _Harry_ always got. He wanted it to hurt when Harry heard how they held hands across the table. 

 

"If you recommend it, it must be good." He closed his menu and handed it to their waiter. "The tenderloin pie for me." 

 

"And you?" The waiter asked, pen poised, ready to write. 

 

"I'll have chardonnay, and the spicy fish and chips, with the mango chutney." He requested sweetly, handing over his menu. 

 

"Very well." The waiter took off, leaving them to their own devices. Since they had already broken the ice with talk of their exes, the conversation was lighter and funnier. Easier. When their food arrived, Louis fished his phone out and took a picture, making sure Patrick was smiling amongst the food. 

 

"Are you posting that?" He asked, cutting into his pie. "Make sure I look good. I have a following." 

 

Louis scoffed and opened Facebook. "Right. You have like eighty friends on here." He began to post the picture, using a single winking emoji as the caption. He made sure to tag his location as the Bistro and Patrick as well. 

 

"As opposed to your eighty friends on there?" Patrick fired back playfully. 

 

Louis sniffed and sipped his chardonnay. "Quality over quantity, Patrick." 

 

His date rolled his eyes and took a big bite of his food. "Right, sure." He said around the mouthful. 

 

Maybe it was the chardonnay, or the familiar environment, or the fact that Patrick was so incredibly easy to talk to, but he leaned forward. "So, Patrick. Tell me all about you. Hopes, dreams, who inspires you the most. Where you see yourself in five years." 

 

"Wow," Patrick swallowed. "You want to know it all, huh?" 

 

"I do." He nodded. "I want to know it all." 

 

-

 

Two hours later, he was fumbling with his keys, trying to stuff the right one into the lock of Niall's apartment. He knew Niall was gone, so he was really hoping to find the right one soon. He didn't want the neighbors thinking he day-drank. It was just a special occasion. 

 

When he finally got the right one and turned it, the door swung open and he stumbled inside, barely having the mind to pull the key back out of the lock and close the door. His head was spinning and his stomach was rolling. Damn chardonnay and the five glasses he'd had of it. 

 

Patrick had only a glass and a half of scotch, and made sure he got home safely. Nothing more and nothing less. Patrick was the perfect gentleman, and suddenly, he wanted Harry to know. 

 

"Siri." He said into his phone, staring down at it. "Siri." 

 

Siri said nothing. 

 

"Fuck." He would have to do things manually. He unlocked his phone and fumbled his way into the photo app. The majority of the pictures were of him and Harry, but just in case, he had a specific folder for them. 

  
Cheesy  _and_ stupid. 

 

He found a photo of them and actually began to cry. The photo was of them, of course, curled up on Liam and Zayn's couch. They were so tightly embraced that all you could see was his head poking out from Harry's arms and Harry's leg between his own. 

 

He remembered that night. It was movie night, and they had fallen asleep together, wrapped up in each other. He wanted to trace the picture. Wanted to trace where Harry's body was curled around his own, because that's how they slept. Harry would always complain that he needed Louis' body in his arms in order to get a good night's sleep. 

 

He stumbled into his bedroom and sat on the edge of his bed. His head was starting to hurt and his vision was beginning to blur with unshed tears. Without thinking, he opened his twitter app and started to type. 

 

_when it Was all good @ harry styls_

 

It made no sense, but in his mind, he had tagged Harry and now Harry would see it and fly home and everything would be okay. He included the picture and posted it before dropping his phone and curling up proper in his bed. 

 

If he was lucky, he would wake up and everything would be okay again. 

 

-

 

Things were not okay when he woke up. First of all, it was dark and snowy out when he opened his eyes. Second, he had been sleeping for four hours and his head still hurt. And third, his phone was dinging with text messages. 

 

He rolled over with a groan and fumbled around, trying to find the buzzing mobile. He found it and squinted against the bright screen. It took him awhile to realize what was happening. Several twitter notifications, several missed calls from Liam, Zayn, Niall,  _and_ Harry. Several missed calls from Harry. Three calls from an unknown number with a Los Angeles area code. 

 

The texts were coming in at rapid speed, ranging from Niall's  _call me!!!! NOW!!!_ to Liam's calmer _Call me before you call anyone else_.  _I can help you_. 

 

"Help me?" He asked himself. "With fucking what?" 

 

Then it all came back to him. The picture he posted on twitter. He unlocked his phone with shaking hands and opened the twitter app, heart beating a mile a minute. His heart dropped and skin prickled when he realized that the picture he'd posted drunk and innocently had thousands of retweets and replies. He read some of them quickly, heart sinking further and further. 

 

_Harry is gay ???_

 

_I always sort of knew it #stillafanthough_

 

_dude if @harrystyles is gay do u think itunes will refund my money??_

 

"Fuck," He whispered. "Fuck!" 

 

His phone rang with another call, the unknown number with the LA area code. He let it go to voicemail, and went to text Liam when he decided to read some of the other texts he'd gotten. He started with Harry and wished he hadn't. 

 

_Louis._

 

_What did you do?_

 

_What the fuck did you do?!_

 

_Fucking answer your phone._

 

 _WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO_. 

 

"Oh my God." He croaked, throat tight. He was going to cry. He was going to bawl his eyes out. He dialed Liam's number. 

 

"Louis?" Liam answered on the first ring. "Thank God. Don't answer any calls unless they're from me, okay?" 

 

"Liam," He sobbed, curling back into a ball. "Liam, what did I do?" 

 

"Sh," Liam tried his best to soothe his friend, but his voice was strained. "It's okay. I can help you." 

 

"Help me." He pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut. "Help me!"

 

"I will!" Liam promised. There was a muffled crash on his end of the phone, then jingling keys. "Zayn, let's go. Louis? We'll be there in no time. Don't leave Niall's though, okay? I'm a lawyer, I can help you. I can help you." 

 

He didn't know who he was trying to convince more; himself or Louis. 

 

"I can help you." He promised again. "I'll help you." 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Liam was pacing, Niall was slumped over on the couch, Zayn was leaning against the bathroom door, and Louis was getting sick. It was no secret that in times of great stress or sorrow, Louis would get violently ill, and the situation he was in now was no exception. The toilet had become his best friend since he'd woken up and remembered what he'd done. 

 

Liam had Louis' phone in his hand, waiting for someone to call. He'd taken control of it when Louis wanted to call Harry, and had to wrestle it from his friend's weaker hands. He felt bad, but he was a lawyer, and knew what he was doing. 

 

"Are you okay in there?" Zayn knocked gently on the door, pressing his ear against the wood. He hadn't heard a dry heave in a few minutes. 

 

Louis groaned his answer. He was done. He flushed and stood, rinsing his mouth. He dared to look at himself in the mirror and cringed at what he saw. Messy hair, tired eyes, dark circles underneath. Is that what Harry saw? Is that how he presented himself to the world?

 

Insecurity ran rampant inside of him when he was feeling this way. And he hated it. He knew it was just the hangover and shook his head. He pushed himself away from the bathroom sink and opened the door. 

 

Zayn greeted him with a sad smile. "How are you feeling?" 

 

"Like death." He answered, making his way into the living room. He flopped down and curled up with Niall, pouting and burying himself underneath a blanket. 

 

"Everything is okay." Liam said, glancing down at the blank phone. Weirdly enough, the calls and texts had stopped. There were still hundreds of unread messages, and later, he'd clean them all out so Louis wouldn't have to look at them. Especially the ones from Harry, which had gotten increasingly angrier. 

 

"I want to call Harry." He pleaded, looking at Liam with wide eyes. "Please." 

 

"No." Liam shook his head. "That's a bad idea." 

 

"No it's not." He whined. 

 

"Louis, as of right now, I'm your  _lawyer_. Anything you do next is already a bad idea. Let me handle things. Especially if his management team calls - " 

 

Louis' phone rang and effectively silenced the whole room. Liam glanced down. 

 

"It's Los Angeles." He said. "It's Harry's team, probably." He sat down, shook out his shoulders, and answered the phone, putting it on speaker. "Hello." 

 

"Louis Tomlinson?" A male voice asked. It was stern. 

 

"No. This is Liam Payne, his lawyer." Liam answered, looking at Louis. He made a face that said,  _I'm half-arsing this because I have no idea what to expect_. Bless him for sticking his neck out for Louis. 

 

"Wise." The man chuckled. "This is Jeff Azoff, from Harry's management team. We've been calling all day." 

 

"I know." Liam said. "I told Louis not to answer the phone." 

 

Jeff chuckled. "We were bound to get ahold of him, whether by phone call...mail...in person." 

 

"That's harassment." Liam said. He was trying to rack his brain for all of the legal knowledge he'd learned over the past five ears. Why was it so difficult to remember something when you needed it the most? 

 

"Not quite, Mr. Payne." Jeff tsked. "Avoiding my calls only prolonged the inevitable." 

 

Liam looked grim. "Which is?" He asked cautiously. 

 

Jeff ignored Liam's question and instead asked his own. "Mr. Payne, are you aware that Mr. Tomlinson signed an NDA? One that prohibits him from speaking of, publishing a book or articles about, or posting pictures depicting the relationship he has with my client?" 

 

Liam's face fell and his eyes went wide, as did everyone else's in the room.

 

Louis inhaled sharply. "He's lying. I've never signed any - " Then, he paused. Because when Harry had first signed with his record label, he'd brought home a stack of papers and a wide smile. 

 

_"Baby, it's incredible," He'd said, wrapping Louis up in a tight embrace. "It's amazing."_

 

_"I know, love." Louis sighed happily, kissing the side of Harry's neck. "I'm so proud of you."_

 

_Harry pulled back, bright eyed. "Oh yeah!" He snapped his fingers and walked to the table in their front hall. "They gave me these. You have to sign them." He returned with a stack of papers, highlighted and paper clipped._

 

_"What are they?" He took the papers, unsure and uneasy. He walked over to their couch and sat, spreading the papers across the coffee table. Harry followed._

 

_"I think they explain my tours and when you can come with me, and how long I'll be away." Harry shrugged, producing a pen from the tight pockets of his jeans._

 

_"Like a permission slip?" Louis grinned, taking the pen._

 

_Harry laughed. "Kind of."_

 

In hindsight, he should have had Liam look the papers over. He should have read them himself and refused to sign until he understood them word for word. 

 

"Louis?" Zayn shook his knee. 

 

Louis looked at Liam. "I think I did sign an NDA." His lower lip quivered. "An NDA he'd disguised as a tour permission slip. Oh my God, I'm so stupid." He threw the blanket off of his legs and stood. 

 

"Mr. Tomlinson signed under false pretenses." Liam said into the phone. "Fax me a copy of those papers." 

 

"Nice try, Mr. Payne." Jeff chuckled. "Tell your client that he can expect to be served through the mail in one to two weeks." 

 

"Served?" Liam asked, and Louis paused, turning around. Zayn blinked and Niall gasped. 

 

"Correct." 

 

"By who?" Liam demanded. 

 

"By Mr. Styles, of course." Jeff said, and then the phone went dead. 

 

Liam lowered the phone and looked at Zayn, wide eyed. There were a few brief moments of stunned silence, and then naturally, all hell broke loose. Louis erupted into broken sobs and ran straight for the bathroom, nausea once again bubbling inside of him. 

 

Zayn stood to follow, but Niall grabbed his hand and shook his head. 

 

"We need to stay and talk." He said, glancing to Liam. 

 

"No, you two can stay and talk." Zayn fumed, fists clenching. "I'm going to go and fucking kill Harry." As handsome as he was, Zayn was pretty scary when he was angry. And his leather jacket and ripped jeans didn't help any. There was an angry spark in his golden eyes that could start a fire.

 

"Just calm down." Liam sighed, leaning back into the chair. His mind was working on overdrive, trying to figure out what was going on. If all of this was real or just a dream. 

 

"I can't, Liam!" Zayn began to pace. "After everything that Harry's done, you just expect me to sit back and let him ruin Louis' life? He's  _suing_ him, Liam. Do you understand that? Louis' own boyfriend is suing him after making him sign an NDA he knew nothing about." 

 

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He was fresh out of law school, just a single year, and barely tried any cases at the firm he was with. Hell, he schlepped coffee and did mounds of paperwork at his desk. And now he was supposed to be representing one of his friends against wealthy, high profile management teams? 

 

"Let's just calm down, order some food, and talk about all of this in depth." Niall suggested. "Although I highly doubt Louis is in the mood to eat." 

 

"I don't know if I am either." Zayn grumbled, sitting back down, arms crossed over his chest. He was fuming. He wanted to kill Harry, and rightfully so. He was pretty sure that no one would stop him if he decided to kill his friend. 

 

"I'll order anyway." Niall stood and searched for their takeout menus. "Sometimes it's nice to just be able to eat and cry." 

 

Liam sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

 

"And, just in case, we have liquor. Lots and lots of liquor." 

 

"I'll get it." Zayn offered. "I have a feeling we'll need it." 

 

-

 

An hour later, there were open boxes of pizza and open bottles of wine scattered across the coffee table. Liam and Zayn were sitting together in the armchair, while Louis and Niall were curled up on either ends of the couch. Louis was swathed in blankets and had downed headache medicine a few minutes prior to the food arriving. His head was pounding and his eyes were sore. 

 

"Well," Liam sighed around a mouthful of food. He tossed his pizza crust back into the box and rubbed his hands together. "We might as well talk about it. We can't avoid it for too long." 

 

"I don't want to talk about it." Louis picked at the blanket, pulling a loose thread. His head was pounding. 

 

"We have to, Louis." Zayn's voice was sympathetic. 

 

"What's there to talk about? My boyfriend who's probably not my boyfriend anymore is suing me. We haven't seen each other in weeks and he's got a naked girlfriend with him all time on a stupid fucking yacht. I hope it crashes into an iceberg and they go down." Louis snapped, dropping his pizza back into the box. He really had no appetite to begin with, and now it was just nonexistent. 

 

"You don't." Niall said. Although he was pretty sure Louis did. He was pretty sure they all did. 

 

"No, I do." 

 

"You don't." Niall insisted. "You may hate him, but you miss him too." 

 

"I know." Louis agreed. He reached for a napkin and wiped his eyes. He had cried so much today that he didn't think he had any tears left. "It's unfair. I hate that I miss him so much. I hate that I miss him more than he misses me." 

 

"We know." Niall scooted closer and pulled his friend in. "We know."

 

"I didn't tell you all this, but he called me a few days ago." Louis began, fiddling with the tear stained napkin. "I was walking to class and I was so excited because I thought we were actually going to get to talk for more than a minute." 

 

"Did you?" Liam asked, hoping the answer was yes. It would mean that Louis had a little brightness in his otherwise dull days. 

 

"No."  _Damn_. "He was at a party or something. I could barely hear him, really. But he called to ask what my favorite pie was. His mum was making a bunch for Christmas and he didn't remember my favorite. It's stupid but it really got to me. And when I told him that he should know what my favorite was, he got angry with me. He said he didn't have time for  _this_ , or whatever." 

 

"What did you say?" Zayn wondered. 

 

"I told him that he didn't have time for much of anything anymore, unless it involved models or yachts. I had to remind him that we've been dating for five years, and he asked what that had to do with anything. I tried to tell him but he cut me off, saying something about the party he was at." 

 

"That fucker." Niall said through gritted teeth. "Does he do anything besides party anymore?" 

 

"I don't know." He wiped his nose and continued. "I said  _fuck you_ , and told him to go to his mum's without me. I said that it would be a little crowded with me and his girlfriend." 

 

"I don't think you have to worry about that anymore," Zayn said, looking up from his phone. His eyes were wide and he held it up for everyone to see. There was a big, bold headline  ** _Harry Style's Gay?_**

 

"Oh my God." Louis scrambled forward. "Read the article." 

 

Zayn cleared his throat and began to read. " _Harry Styles, indie rock and pop artist who rose to fame a little over a year ago, has been outed. Or has he? A picture surfaced just recently of the rockstar curled up in a compromising position with a university student identified as Louis Tomlinson, from London, England. Since the picture has surfaced, there has been no word from Harry or his team. Our sources are trying to find Louis Tomlinson for a statement._ " 

 

Louis exhaled, unsure of what to say. "Does that mean they'll come here? I don't want them here." Panic bubbled in his chest, constricting his lungs. 

 

"It'll be okay." Liam promised. "I'll tell the doorman not to let anyone up. Make a list of people who can see you, okay? And just to be on the safe side, call your professors and see if they can email you assignments. You don't want to leave here for the next few days." 

 

"Even if they find me, I wouldn't say anything." Louis swore. "I wouldn't tell them anything about Harry." 

 

"I know. But just to be on the safe side. Harry is a huge name right now, so people will give or do anything to be the first ones to find you. Who knows what might happen." Liam told him. 

 

"Yeah, Liam's right. You might get hurt." Niall looked worried. "I'll do the grocery shopping and make sure you have enough here. You won't need to leave for anything." 

 

After a little hesitation, he finally agreed. "Okay. You all are right. I'll stay here." He looked sadly at Niall. "I'm sorry I got you into this mess." 

 

Niall blinked, confused. "What do you mean? None of this is your fault." 

 

"It is. But I'm staying at your flat and if I'm not careful, they could be swarming the building." Louis reached over and grabbed Niall's hand. He felt better when Niall squeezed his own reassuringly. 

 

"That won't happen." Niall promised. "Because we'll help you." 

 

"Okay." Liam nodded. "Alright. It's settled." 

 

Niall looked at all three boys. "Now what do we do?" 

 

-

 

Louis headed to bed. He didn't know what the other three would do, but he was tired, and wanted nothing more than to lay down in a dark room, curled up warm in his bed. His head felt like it weight a million pounds, and he was thankful to lay it on his pillow. 

 

In the living room, Niall was cleaning up the pizza mess, while Zayn and Liam were reading the most current text message on Louis' phone, wondering what to do. 

 

"What is it?" Niall noticed the silence and the tension, and he paused. "What's going on?" 

 

Zayn glanced up at him. "Harry just sent Louis a text." 

 

"Fuck." Niall breathed. "What's it say?" 

 

Liam held it up.  _Where are you?_

 

"Where are you?" He read aloud, frowning. "What does he care?" His voice was a little more hostile than he was used to, but it was warranted. 

 

The phone pinged again. _Are you with the boys? You're not at our flat._  

 

Liam's eyes bugged out. "He's in London?" He wanted to gasp, but that was a little too cliche, even for him. 

 

"Are you going to tell him where Louis is?" Zayn asked. He was torn. On one hand, he wanted to kill Harry dead, but on the other hand, he had to remember their years of friendship and the fact that they would do anything for each other. Although he wasn't so sure on that last part. 

 

"Should I?" Liam gnawed on his bottom lip. 

 

"I mean," Niall sighed. "Maybe they need to see each other face to face. Explain everything. We can ask Harry why he's suing Louis and Louis can explain the picture to Harry. Harry has to know that he didn't do it on purpose. He's not like that." 

 

"No, he's not." Liam agreed. "Fine, I'll text him and let him know where Louis is."  _It's Liam. We're all at Niall's. Come on over if you want,_ he typed. It delivered, and he watched as the little typing bubble appeared. 

 

"What did he say?" Niall asked. 

 

" _Be there soon_ ," Liam read as soon as the message appeared. "Should we tell Louis?" 

 

Zayn looked down the dark hallway. "No," He finally decided. "He'll only stress about it and get sick again. Let's let him sleep and Harry can stay until he wakes up." 

 

Niall nodded. "I agree with Zayn. Harry can wait." 

 

"Alright, it's settled." Liam sat the phone on the coffee table and leaned back in his seat. "Now, I guess we wait for Harry."

 

"The man of the hour." Niall's voice was icy. 

 

Zayn nodded slowly and sat on the arm of the couch. "This should be fun." 

 

-

 

Twenty minutes later, there was a sharp knock on the door. The trio in Niall's living room exchanged glances before standing up. Liam answered the door, while Zayn shook out the urge to punch Harry in the face. 

 

Ten seconds later, the urge returned.  _Big time._  

 

Liam entered the room before Harry, eyes wide. He shook his head to Zayn. A warning. Zayn and Niall were confused until Harry walked in behind him...and Camille followed Harry. 

 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Zayn stared in disbelief, staring daggers at the unwanted guest. 

 

"Zayn." Liam warned, standing beside his boyfriend and best friend. 

 

"Hey," Harry stood awkwardly in the room, taller than everyone else. He gave a small wave. "This is - " 

 

"We don't care." Zayn interrupted venomously. 

 

Harry looked taken aback. 

 

"No offense, Harry," Zayn continued. "But why did you bring your...whatever when you  _know_ you're here to see Louis?" 

 

"I came for moral support." Camille answered for Harry, glaring sharply at Zayn. "Harry's friend has stirred up some trouble." 

 

"I have to leave." Zayn stepped back, hands up. He looked angrier than Niall and Liam had ever seen him. "I have to leave or I'm going to beat his fucking face in." 

 

"Zayn," Harry tried, stepping forward. 

 

"Harry," Liam, ever the peacemaker, stepped forward, effortlessly distracting Harry enough for Zayn to slip by. "If you want to see Louis, he's asleep in his room. You can go see him." 

 

"His room?" Harry asked, eyebrows drawing together. 

 

"Yes." Liam nodded. "It's down the hall, second door. You can wake him. I think he'd like to see you." 

 

Harry nodded and walked off, leaving Camille to face Liam and Niall. When he was gone, she pulled her phone out and sat, looking bored. Liam and Niall exchanged another look before sitting on the couch. 

 

When Harry reached the door that held Louis behind it, he didn't bother to knock. He opened it and slipped inside. It was dark, but the window allowed enough moonlight through to highlight Louis on the bed, curled up and covered in blankets. 

 

He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. He pulled the blankets back from Louis' face and stroked a finger down his soft cheek. He smiled when Louis' nose twitched. He'd missed that little twitch. 

 

"Louis, baby." He whispered. "Wake up." 

 

Louis' nose twitched again and his eyes squeezed together. Then, they opened, bright blue. Harry watched as recognition slowly crossed his face. 

 

"Harry?" He murmured, sitting up. 

 

"It's me, love." Harry nodded, tucking the blankets that had fallen around Louis' waist. 

 

"What are you doing here?" He asked, and his eyes filled with tears. He was so overwhelmed with everything and it was made worse by the fact that he didn't know if he was dreaming or not. 

 

"I came to ask you - " 

 

"Oh." His lower lip quivered and a few tears fell down his cheeks. "That's why." 

 

Harry reached for him, grasped his shoulders. "Let me explain." 

 

"No," Louis shook his head. "I didn't mean to do it, Harry. I wasn't thinking straight. I was drunk and sad and I don't know  _why_ I opened twitter but I did. I'm sorry." He sniffled and wiped his nose. He was sure he looked pathetic. 

 

"You don't get drunk, Louis. I don't understand. Why would you do that to me?" Harry asked, and his voice was tinged with something Louis didn't like. Distance...hostility. Blame. 

 

"I was sad. That's not an excuse but I was out with Patrick and we started talking about our exes and I just kept drinking and drinking and when I got home...it just seemed like a good idea. I honestly thought I was opening instagram but I opened Twitter instead. I only have like three followers, Harry. I didn't know this would happen." His heart was beating as he explained it. He'd mentioned Patrick and had no idea what Harry's reaction would be. A part of him, the biggest part, hoped that Harry would be jealous and demand that Louis not see Patrick anymore. 

 

He would give anything for jealous, protective Harry. He would give anything for Harry to wrap a possessive hand around his thigh and squeeze, quietly marking his territory. He would give anything for Harry's eyes to flash and for him to leave a litter of bruises across his neck. 

 

"Patrick?" Harry cocked a single brow. 

 

"He's in my history class. He asked me to dinner but I had to work until ten thirty so I suggested lunch and we went to Sully's," He paused, allowing Harry to absorb all of the information. Sully's - their place - and having lunch with someone who wasn't Harry. 

 

"That's doesn't excuse what you did." Harry said, frowning. "You have single-handedly fucked up my career." 

 

Louis wasn't prepared for what he felt at that. It was as if Harry had crushed his entire soul with those words. His voice was more hostile than Louis had ever heard it. More tears fell and he reached for his...Harry. "I didn't." He shook his head. 

 

"You did." 

 

"But - but, it's good." He tried to salvage the conversation, to paint himself in a good light. "You can come out now. You don't have to have a beard anymore. I want to be seen in public with you, Harry. I want to go to your concerts and actually stand backstage. I want - " 

 

"God, Louis!" Harry raised his voice and stood. "This isn't about you! This is about what you did. I want to know why you did it." 

 

Louis scrambled off the bed, nearly tripping on the blankets that got tangled around his feet. Again, he reached for Harry. "I already told you! I didn't mean to do it. Harry, I'm sorry! Maybe I...maybe I wanted to get a rise out of you. I wanted you to see me out with another boy at our place - " 

 

"What are you talking about?" Harry shook his head. " _Our_ place?" 

 

It felt like he was doused in cold water. He stood frozen in place, staring up at Harry. "Sully's." He croaked. "I put it on Facebook and hoped that you would see that him and I were sitting in the same spot you and I sit in. I had him order what you order because I wanted you to see it and call me and maybe come home to me." 

 

Harry shook his head again and stepped back. "Why the fuck are you dating other people? Did we break up and you just forgot to tell me?" 

 

"I don't know, Harry, did we?" This time, he shouted. "I wouldn't know because you never fucking talk to me! You're too busy living it up and conveniently forgetting the people who supported you the most! You think people won't like you because you're gay? Is that it? I'm so fucking sorry, Harry, that I don't have a million dollars or a modeling contract or a fucking  _vagina_ \- " 

 

Harry stepped forward, eyes blazing. "How dare you imply that I've cheated on you!" He roared. "When you're the one whoring around." 

 

"I didn't sleep with Patrick." He screamed, fisting his own hair. "I respect you too fucking much, Harry. I can't even  _look_ at other people without feeling so guilty and you're out partying and taking pictures with naked girls and posting them to your instagram." 

 

"You  _know_ I'm obligated to." Harry's nostrils flared. "But I don't recall you signing any papers that said you have to have a beard." 

 

"Oh? Did those papers also say that your beard had to be fucking  _naked_ in all of them?" He fired back. 

 

"It was almost ninety degrees Fahrenheit where we were." Harry crossed his arms, and Louis paused. 

 

"You're defending your naked beard?" He choked out. "You're trying to justify her sitting naked on your lap? What is  _wrong_ with you?" 

 

Harry threw his hands up in the air. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with  _you_?" 

 

"What's wrong with me is that I miss you too fucking much!" He shouted, wiping the angry tears that were falling down his face. "And it's so clearly one-sided and it  _hurts_ \- " 

 

"Who said it's one-sided?" 

 

"Your actions! When you don't ever call me or respect me enough to stop posting those pictures even though your beard knows she's a beard! When you don't remind her that you're in a committed relationship!" 

 

Harry snapped his mouth closed, and his face morphed into an expression of guilt. Louis paused, arms lowering. 

 

"You..." He exhaled shakily. His voice was quivering when he spoke the words he thought he would never have to speak. "You didn't ever tell her, did you? She thinks it's real." 

 

Harry stepped forward, hands out, like he was trying to grasp what was left of their relationship. What would he do when he grabbed it? Try to salvage it? Or completely crumble it in his hands?

 

"So," He said shakily. "You're _letting_ her sit naked in your lap and you're posting pictures of it to your Instagram."

 

A little sob escaped his mouth and he covered it with a shaky hand. 

 

"Your _private_ Instagram. The one reserved just for us. You put those pictures next to pictures of us." A little wail escaped his mouth and he covered his face with his hands. He was so fucking angry at himself for crying. "Our phone calls last less than a minute and you have the nerve to call me while you're partying. Do you do it just to let me know what I'm missing? Do you do it just so you can?" 

 

Harry's shoulder sagged as the tension from before left his body. "Louis..." He stepped forward. 

 

"I miss you so fucking much,  _all the time_. I haven't slept next to you in  _weeks_ , Harry. I can't count how many." He turned his back to Harry and kept his eyes covered. "All I want to do is support you. Why won't you let me?" 

 

"Baby." Harry's voice broke, and he moved towards Louis and didn't stop until he was enveloping him from behind. He squeezed as tight as Louis would allow and buried his face in Louis' neck. "My baby." 

 

"Not anymore." Louis' shoulders shook and his knees were weak. "Harry, I haven't lived in our flat in  _weeks_ and you haven't noticed." 

 

"Yes," Harry disagreed. "You are. You are still.  _You are_." It didn't matter to him in that moment that Louis wasn't living at their place. What mattered was getting Louis back into his arms. 

 

Louis shifted and squirmed in Harry's arms, and for a heart wrenching second, Harry thought that he might pull away. But he didn't. He simply turned and looked up at him, blue eyes watery and face sad. 

 

"I want to sleep," He sniffled. His smaller hands fisted the shirt before him. "Lay with me. Sleep with me." 

 

"I will." Harry promised. They were halfway back to the bed when Harry remembered that he had brought company. He paused, and Louis stopped. More tears fell. 

 

"Did you change your mind?" His voice shook. If the answer was  _yes_ , he didn't know if he could take it. He might actually die. 

 

Harry shook his head. "No, baby. No." He promised. "I just - I left someone in the living room. I want you to meet them. They've really been helping me out - " 

 

Louis was about to ask who when there was a knock on his door. He didn't get the chance to answer before it was opened and the light was flipped on. There was a woman standing before them, scantily clad and angry. 

 

Louis recognized her as Camille, the naked model that sat in Harry's lap. His heart dropped into his stomach and his whole body shook. 

 

"Are we leaving yet? We have to be at the restaurant by nine, Harry." She sighed, as if being there was the most boring thing in the world. She gave Louis a once-over with a cocked eyebrow. "Lewis. Are you feeling better?" 

 

Harry paused. "Hold on," He held a hand up to her. He faced Louis, who was backing away, more tears falling. He reached for him but got pushed away. 

 

"You brought  _her_ here?" Louis' voice was eerily calm, even if it was shaking. "Your fucking  _girlfriend_? And what does she mean by asking me if I'm okay? What have you told her?" 

 

"Louis - " Harry tried. "Let me explain - " 

 

"Harry!" Camille said, actually stomping her foot. Liam and Niall appeared in the doorway, ready to intervene. "Jeff said the photographers will only be there for ten minutes." 

 

"Go," Louis' bottom lip was quivering again. Harry  _hated_ seeing it. "You have an appearance." 

 

"Louis - " He stepped forward, reaching once more for him. "I tried to get out of it - " 

 

"Go!" Louis shouted, and this time, he shoved Harry.  _Hard_. "Get out! Get  _out_!" 

 

"Let me explain!" Harry tried to grab at Louis' wrists, but with Camille whining and Louis' fast and furious hits, he missed every time. He had to step back with every hit. He'd never seen Louis so furious, and rightfully so. 

 

"Get out." Louis said again, this time defeated. In the light, Harry got a good look at him. He looked weary; exhausted. And he only had himself to blame. "I'm serious, Harry get out." 

 

"Baby - " He had to try one last time. As soon as the word was out of his mouth, there was a sharp crack and his cheek exploded in a sharp pain. 

 

"Baby?" Camille raised an eyebrow, not even blinking when Louis hit Harry. 

 

"You don't get to call me that." He shook his head. "You don't respect me, or anyone else. Was this a joke? Coming here? And bringing  _her_? Is this your way of telling me that you two are dating? Fucking now?" 

 

Camille snorted. "Not for lack of trying." 

 

"Go," He croaked. His whole body suddenly felt weak. He was dizzy and the ground felt like it was falling from beneath his feet. A cold sweat broke over his skin and he felt nauseous. "I never want to see you again." 

 

"You don't mean that." Harry croaked. 

 

"I do. You should have no problem never seeing me again. You were content to do it before." With one last weak shove, which was mainly Harry backing up because the lord knows he didn't have enough strength in his body to move Harry anymore, Harry was out of the room, along with Camille. 

 

Before he slammed the door, he saw Liam put a hand on Harry's back and a hand on Camille's, moving them forcefully down the hallway. He fell face first onto a tear-soaked pillow, thankful he had such loyal friends. 

 

-

 

The next morning, Louis had to pull himself out of bed and call his professors, faking the flu. They promised to send him his assignments and wished him well. After that, he forced himself to take a shower, sitting for most of it, letting the hot water pour over him, making his hair stick to his forehead and running into his eyes. That way, when he cried, his tears were mixed in with the running water. 

 

Minutes, or maybe hours later, he got out. Steadying himself on the sink, he dried and slid on sweats -  _not_ Harry's - and a shirt, also not Harry's. He shuffled through the empty flat and back to his bedroom, where he slid into bed once more. Facing the window, he watched the steady snowfall until he fell asleep again. 

 

About an hour later, his eyes slid open, unable to get a good sleep. It was still snowing, getting closer and closer to his birthday and Christmas. Before, even when Harry was still ignoring him, he still looked forward to Christmas and his birthdays. Visiting Harry's family and then his own, holding hands under the dinner table and sharing a piece of birthday cake. 

 

But now, the holidays seemed awful and daunting. It loomed over him, thoughts of changing his plans and driving to Doncaster himself. He was never a good driver in inclement weather. A part of him wanted to cancel, because showing up to his house without Harry was embarrassing. Especially since his family had been undoubtedly keeping up with Harry's career, and the fact that it didn't involve himself. 

 

He felt brave long enough to grab his phone and unplug it from the charger. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, counting to three before opening them to stare at his oddly blank lock screen. 

 

 _Harry hadn't texted or called him_?  _Not even once?_

 

He was no stranger to the heartbreak he felt, but he pushed past it and unlocked his phone. He opened Facebook, noticing he had several notifications. He was disappointed to find that they were just likes on the photo he'd posted of himself and Patrick. 

 

His mum had commented,  _hmm...call me._ He felt ashamed. 

 

He had no Twitter to look at anymore, since he deleted his account and got rid of the app completely. God forbid he make another mistake. All that was left was Instagram, and there was nothing new there. He'd blocked both of Harry's accounts, not wanting to see more pictures of Harry and half-naked models. 

 

And he was sick of yachts. 

 

He loathed them, now. And anything related to boats. He hated long brown hair whipping in the wind and he hated bikini strings and aviator sunglasses and bottles of beer with limes on the rim. He hated dimpled grins and shiny white teeth and people  _living their best life with the people they love around them_. 

 

He hated Harry Styles. 

 

He hated that he still loved Harry Styles even more. 

 

-

 

He'd just finished typing up an essay for his English professor when there was a knock on his bedroom door. 

 

"Come in," He called, hating the way his voice was scratchy. He put his laptop to the side and put his hands in his lap. 

 

The door opened and Zayn came in. "Listen, sorry I bailed on you last night." 

 

Louis blinked. "You did?" He was surprised. He hadn't even known Zayn was gone. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize..." 

 

Zayn shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed. "No, it's okay. Liam explained everything to me. You had a shit show last night play out right in your bedroom." 

 

He snorted, and he wished it sounded more like he was unbothered, rather than he was completely and utterly heartbroken. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Um, where is Liam? And Niall? I haven't seen them since last night." 

 

"Liam is at his firm, trying to figure out what to do about Harry's management and trying to find a loophole, and Niall is grocery shopping." Zayn replied. "They figured you needed some space." 

 

"And you?" Louis quirked a brow. 

 

"Fuck space." Was Zayn's answer. 

 

"So," He looked down. "They faxed Liam the paperwork?" 

 

Zayn sighed and climbed fully into the bed. He moved effortlessly in his skintight jeans and plopped right next to Louis. "Yeah. I guess they figure it's so airtight that Liam won't find any loopholes or anything. It was at the office five minutes after Jeff hung up last night."

 

"Cocky." He mumbled. 

 

"Very." Zayn agreed. "So...Harry came by earlier." 

 

Louis wasn't even phased. He couldn't allow himself to be excited because with Harry came heartache. And probably Camille. And both of those things at his doorstep was more than he could handle at the moment. 

 

"What did he want?" 

 

"He didn't really say," Zayn shrugged. "It's pretty hard to speak with a broken nose." 

 

At that, Louis' eyes went wide and he looked up. "You didn't." His mouth gaped. "Zayn! Tell me you didn't break his nose." 

 

Again, Zayn shrugged. He turned his hand over and examined his knuckles. They were tinted pink. "Nah, I did. Broke it up proper good. I reckon he won't be singing falsetto for awhile." 

 

"Zayn - " 

 

"He won't be singing at all for awhile, actually." Zayn continued. "He cancelled the rest of his tour." 

 

That made Louis pause. "What? Why?" 

 

"Well, again, I broke his nose. And secondly, probably because he's finally pulled his head out of his arse and realized what a fucking mess he's made." Zayn bit out. It made him angry just remembering what Harry's absence had done to his best friend. 

 

Louis leaned back against his pillows. There was an amicable silence between them, and it was nice. He didn't have to think about anything but the camaraderie they held and how lucky he was. 

 

Then, "Were there any pap pictures?" 

 

Zayn turned his head. He had an almost painful expression on his face. Louis could read clear as day that the answer was yes, there were pap pics. 

 

"Were they bad?" He asked next. 

 

Zayn sighed. "Louis..." 

 

"No, tell me. I want to know." Louis said. "I want to know what he did after he left here." 

 

Zayn shifted. "They went to some seafood restaurant. Their table was right in the window, Harry didn't order anything and Camille ordered several plates and ate them all. Rumor has it she paid for her own food, and they left the restaurant looking angry and uninterested." 

 

Louis studied him. He could usually tell when Zayn was lying. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?" 

 

Zayn rolled his eyes and fished his phone out. "No, if you don't believe me then look for yourself." He pulled up the pictures and showed Louis. There was one of them entering the restaurant, a mile between them. Harry looked fucking miserable. There was another from outside of the restaurant, with Camille talking to the waiter and Harry staring into space. Another with Camille eating and Harry looking anywhere but her. Another of them leaving the restaurant, Harry looking to traffic, like he wanted to be laying down between the zooming cars, and Camille was waving to the paps. 

 

They took separate rides home. 

 

"He looks miserable." Louis handed the phone back. 

 

"He should be. He just fucked up the best thing to happen to him." Zayn scoffed. "And he doesn't even have the balls to face his own identity." 

 

"It's not that." Louis said. He had the strongest urge to defend Harry. After all, when they had first met, it was Harry who helped him realize that people were more accepting than he thought they'd be. Harry was his rock, and now he had to be Harry's. "His management - " 

 

"Is ruining his life." Zayn finished angrily. "Listen, I'm so pissed at him, but what they're doing is even more shit. And Harry didn't even read the terms of his contract before signing." 

 

"I agreed too, Zayn." Louis sighed. "I was under the assumption that they were going to let him get his footing as a musician before letting him come out. I didn't know they'd take it this far." 

 

"What he doesn't realize is they need him, not the other way around." Zayn sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. When he was standing, he began to pace. Something he did when he was frustrated. "Do you know how many labels would love to sign him? Under  _his_ terms? Has he even looked around?" 

 

Louis sat up too, watching his best friend. "I understand your frustration and anger. I feel it more than you do. But I can't sit here and blame him for it. I've supported him since he was playing in dingy pubs and I'll continue to support him." 

 

Zayn gave him a look of disappointment, but he held his hand up and continued. 

 

"But, can you talk to Liam and see if he can contact some people in LA or even in England? See if they'll be willing to sign Harry?" He got up from the bed too, stretching his limbs out. "Maybe if Harry hears his options, he'll change his mind." 

 

Zayn softened. "Sure, Lou." He nodded. "I can do that." 

 

-

 

Harry stared at his face in the mirror. His nose was indeed broken, as the doctor informed him. It was hell leaving the hospital without being seen by the paparazzi, who had been following his every move since Louis' picture leak on Twitter. 

 

Now, he was alone in his hotel room, standing under the bright vanity lights in the bathroom, wondering how he got to this place. He had no boyfriend, no more tour, and a broken nose. And, his heart felt pretty shitty, too. 

 

He flicked the light off and wandered back into the room. He dialed room service and ordered bucket of ice and some bottled water. He had gotten some pretty good pain reliever from the hospital, and all he wanted to do was take one and sleep. To forget about what shit the past few days had been. 

 

He scrolled through his phone while waiting, pointedly ignoring the headlines.  ** _Harry Styles and Girlfriend Step Out Amid Gay Rumors. Harry and Camille's Steamy Dinner Date. The End for Harry and Camille?_**

 

One headline caught his eye and made his heart jump uncomfortably.  ** _Who is Louis Tomlinson?_** He continued reading, scrolling with a shaky finger. 

 

_Louis Tomlinson is a twenty-two year old University student, majoring in Education and minoring in English. When not attending class, he works at the student library, often earning extra credit. Such a studious lad! Many want to know how he knows our Harry, and just what their relationship means. Skyrocketing to fame a year ago, Harry has never sparked any gay rumors, instead being surrounding by a bevy of models for most of his career. Many speculate that the picture is photoshopped. Our sources still have not located Mr. Tomlinson for a statement._

 

He exited out of the article and dialed Jeff. His manager answered on the first ring. 

 

"Harry, what a surprise! Stirring some trouble up in London, I see?" Jeff chuckled. At one point in his career, Harry looked at Jeff as a friend, someone who would lead him in the right direction. 

 

"Jeff, I read an article about Louis online." He said through gritted teeth. The pain from his nose was getting to him. "Apparently,  _sources_ are trying to reach him for a statement." 

 

"What are they trying to accomplish?" Jeff asked. "We've put out our own articles denying the picture is real." 

 

"It  _is_ real, Jeff! I remember the exact moment it was taken. Louis is my boyfriend, although probably not anymore. But he's the love of my life and you can't write it away." 

 

Jeff sighed. "Harry..." 

 

"No, listen to me." His voice grew angrier. "I want him protected. You will hire a security team for him." 

 

"Harry, I can't do that. He's not under my management." 

 

"He is an extension of me!" Harry shouted, wincing when his nose erupted in pain. "And these vultures are trying to find him." 

 

"Harry," Jeff's voice was calm, and it infuriated him. "Why do you care? You say he's the love of your life, but he outed you to the entire world. He knew what he was doing." 

 

"He didn't. And how dare you blame him. Everything that has happened is my fault." Harry defended. He would defend Louis until his dying breath.  "Now, are you going to do as I ask?" 

 

Jeff sighed again. "Harry...I can't do that. He's not in immediate danger. The magazines are just writing that they're trying to reach him for a statement to keep the story going for as long as possible. I'm sorry, Harry." 

 

"Fine." He snarled. "I'll do it myself." He hit the end call button as aggressively as he could and threw his phone on the bed. He shoved his hands into his hair and pulled, so angry at Jeff and the paparazzi and himself. 

 

A knock on the door interrupted his self-loathing and he stalked over to it, throwing it open. The bellhop was standing next to a bar cart with a bucket of ice and five bottles of some fancy water. He stepped back and let the cart be rolled in. Then, he tipped the bellhop and slammed the door. 

 

He took a pain pill with a hearty swig of water and wrapped some ice into a towel. He walked back over to his bed and picked his phone up. He dialed, made some calls, and hung up, feeling better about the situation. He placed the towel gingerly on his nose and let himself drift off. 

 

-

 

Niall cursed as one of the handles of the plastic bags he was carrying threatened to break. Of all the times to ignore Louis' plea to use a reusable bag. He readjusted the six bags and breathed in relief as he came in front of his building. The doorman was inside the foyer, and outside, there were four men standing tall and had  _don't fuck with me_ faces on. 

 

"Weird." He shook his head and tried to walk between two of them to get to the door. 

 

"Step back, sir." One of them said, pulling him back with a beefy arm. It barely wrinkled the expensive gray coat he was wearing. 

 

"Excuse me?" He huffed. One of the bags threatened to slip again. "I need to get through. These bags aren't getting any lighter, mate." 

 

"What is your business here?" The man crossed his arms over his chest. 

 

Niall gave him an incredulous look. "I  _live_ here?" He said. "What the fuck is this?" 

 

The man studied him and then stepped back. He turned and spoke into an earpiece. Then, he turned to Niall. "Name?" 

 

"Niall Horan?" Niall wanted to scream. He was pretty sure he'd lost the feeling in his left hand. 

 

Some more talking into the earpiece, then a nod. Another man stepped back and opened the door and jerked his head, telling Niall to step through. 

 

"That was weird, you weird fucks." He muttered, stepping into the foyer. He looked at the doorman. "What's their deal?" 

 

The doorman, Leo, shrugged. "No clue, mate. Super said about an hour ago to expect more security. Someone hired them to watch the building, I guess. Your guess is as good as mine." 

 

Then, it dawned on him. He bid Leo a quick goodbye and hurried to the elevators. He punched the buttons until the doors slid open, and inside, he did the same thing, bouncing from foot to foot until it stopped on his floor. He hurried down the hall and burst into the flat. 

 

"Louis!" He screeched, rushing to the kitchen. He sat the bags down and shook the feeling back into his red hands. He turned. "Lou - !" 

 

"Damn, what?" Louis was standing three feet away from him, leaning his head away. "Why are you screaming?" 

 

"You will not fucking believe what is happening." Niall said. "I can't believe it meself." 

 

Louis raised an eyebrow and began to sift through the bags. "Well? Are you going to tell me?" 

 

"There are four big arse dudes downstairs outside. They took Leo's spot." Niall explained. At Louis' confused look, he sighed. "Harry hired them! Don't you understand? I wasn't allowed to enter the building until I told them my name and they verified it through someone." 

 

Slowly, he sank into a kitchen chair. "Why would Harry do that? We're not together anymore. At least I don't think we are."

 

"It's because sooner or later, someone at uni or the library or in this very building is going to squeal and call the press for their fifteen minutes of fame. Then there will be all sorts of people harassing you and trying to come into the building." Niall sat down across from him. He reached into a bag and pulled out a bag of crisps. He tore into them, crunching loudly. 

 

Louis looked lost. "I mean...I just don't understand it, I guess. I don't think he hired them to protect me. I think he hired them to make sure I don't go anywhere until the court date." 

 

Niall lowered the bag slowly. "Oh." He sat them down and swallowed hard, wiping his hands on his pants. "I didn't think of that. I still think he hired them to protect you." 

 

"You can think that all you want, Niall, but he made himself pretty clear last night." Louis sighed. 

 

"So did you." Niall pointed out, setting the crisps aside. "When you told him you never wanted to see him again. Did you mean that?" His voice was quiet, as if he was scared his friends really wouldn't ever speak again. 

 

Casting his eyes downward, Louis shrugged. He sought out a loose thread on his sweatpants and pulled at it. It was unraveling, just like his life, it seemed. "I meant it." He answered quietly. "I meant it, but I don't. God, why is this so fucked up?" 

 

"I don't know. I wish I could offer you a better answer, but you've been dealing with this for a long time. I can't be the one to reassure you anymore. It has to be Harry." Niall said. 

 

"That won't ever happen." Louis snorted, standing. "I'm going to go finish my schoolwork. Let me know when Zayn and Liam get here?" 

 

Niall nodded. "Yeah, I will." 

 

-

 

Harry was perfectly content to not leave his hotel room again. It wasn't even the fact that his nose was bright purple and muddled black, or the fact that gay rumors were swirling through the media. It was because of the fact that if he left, he would head straight to their flat, and see the dust that accumulated onto every surface. He would see the flat empty of Louis' possessions, all traces of home gone. 

 

He would want to head to Niall's, to see Louis, and be rejected at the door, maybe even greeted with another right hook. Maybe it would blacken an eye, or bruise his cheekbone. Maybe even bloody his lip. 

 

He reached up and touched his nose gingerly, wincing when pain exploded at the slightest touch. He glanced at the clock. It wasn't time to take another pill, and most of his ice had melted. 

 

He needed to keep himself entertained. He flipped on the television and bought a movie. He muted it immediately and grabbed his phone. He would call Jeff, text Louis, and then order room service. He was planning on staying inside all day, until he saw multiple alerts on his phone. Frowning, he opened the first one he saw. It was a news article. 

 

 ** _Harry Styles Sues Long-Time Friend Louis Tomlinson for Leaking Doctored Photo_** :  _See below the picture that surfaced just two days ago, picturing our favorite rock-star cuddled up in a loving embrace with a boy identified as Louis Tomlinson. Sources close to the artist say that Harry and Louis were close friends, up until about a year ago. "Louis didn't like that Harry was getting so famous," One source says. "Their friendship tapered off and eventually they stopped communicating altogether." Another close friend to Harry reveals that Tomlinson leaked the picture after another falling out with Styles. Fear not, fans. We've reached out to Harry's management team for an exclusive statement. Jeff Azoff, the head of Harry's team, said, "This is something we don't take lightly. Harry has tried to make amends with Louis, and thought that things were civil between the two. He never thought that his friend was capable of doing this. Our last resort was to take legal matters. It was Harry's decision, one he made with great hesitation, but I think he ultimately realized that it was the only thing he could do." We hear you, Jeff, and to Harry, we support you no matter what! Stay tuned for more updates._

 

He read the article three more times, and each time, he grew more and more angry. He closed out of the article and dialed Jeff's number with shaking hands. There was no answer, of course, so he dialed the next best person he could think of. 

 

"Liam?" He said when there was an answer. "I need your help." 

 

-

 

Liam showed up at his hotel twenty-eight minutes later, briefcase in hand. He looked concerned, a little bit angry still, and rightfully so. He brushed past his friend and headed straight for the kitchen, opening the briefcase. 

 

"I had Jeff fax me all the paperwork." He began, pulling out a stack of highlighted and tabbed papers. Harry's eyes bulged out. 

 

"That soon?" Harry asked, sitting down. 

 

Liam glanced at him. "He sent them yesterday." 

 

Harry blinked. "You've known about this since yesterday?" 

 

"We all have." Liam answered. "These are the legal documents regarding Louis being sued, and this is the NDA you had him sign - " 

 

Harry held up his hands and shook his head. "Wait, what? What are you talking about?" 

 

"The stack of papers you brought home to him about a year ago?" Liam tried to jog his memory. "It was an NDA." 

 

Harry sat back in the chair, eyes wild, trying to figure out what Liam had just said. "The only thing my team wanted him to sign was a contract that limited the amount of concerts he could go to. They said he could go to every concert in Europe with me, but not the American leg." 

 

Liam rifled through his briefcase and produced a different stack of papers. He handed it to Harry, watching as his friend scanned the pages. He could see the confused look appear on Harry's face, and watched as it morphed to one of horror. 

 

"I didn't know. I didn't read it." Harry said weakly. He sat the papers down, face ghostly white. 

 

"They didn't suggest you hire an attorney?" Liam took the papers and stuffed them back into his briefcase. He didn't want them to cause Harry any more stress. "They didn't explain this to you as you read it?" 

 

Harry shook his head and raked his hands through his short hair. It was sticking up in all different directions. "They didn't." 

 

"You've got a shit team," Liam said bluntly. "One that's suing Louis in your name." 

 

Harry rubbed his face. "I know." He sighed. "What can we do? Liam, I'm not suing him. That's the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard! I can't have him thinking this is my idea." 

 

Liam just stared at him. 

 

"Oh God." Harry croaked. "He thinks it's  _me_ suing him? He thinks I would do that?" 

 

"He's had a lot of time to realize that you're not the same person who left for LA eleven months ago, Harry." Liam broke it to him as gently as he could. "He's had some time to conclude that you'd do anything for fame." 

 

"I'd do anything for  _him_ ," Harry shot. 

 

"Does that include having a naked girl sit on your lap?" Liam frowned. "Ignoring his calls until it's convenient for you to talk? Thinking that you can disappear and do all of this stuff and then come back and expect nothing to be wrong?" 

 

"Stop." Harry sounded close to tears. "This is all fucked up. I don't want it if I can't have him." He swiped at the legal documents Liam had sat out and folded his arms across his chest. 

 

"Harry," Liam said. "You can still get a different team. Your contract is up in thirty days." 

 

"Who would want to take me on?" Harry sounded defeated, wiping at his eyes. 

 

Liam held up a finger and pulled some more papers from his briefcase. "I did some research. I asked around at a few places here in London, some in LA, and two in New York. Here are the offers from them all." He handed Harry the papers. "I spoke to a rep from each one and gave them your terms and - " 

 

"Be my manager." Harry said suddenly, dropping the papers. 

 

Liam paused. "What?" 

 

"Be my manager." Harry said again. "You know me, and you know Louis. You can help us. You can help me."

 

"I - I don't know what to say, Harry." Liam stammered. "I just started at the firm, I can't leave now." 

 

"You  _can_." Harry pleaded. "I'll rent a building, you can hire a team. Who knows me better than you?" 

 

"Louis." Liam said. 

 

"Besides him. You know the legal system. We can get me out of this contract and we can work on everything else." Harry sounded so earnest and he was bright-eyed, excited at the idea of Liam managing him. Liam detected a hint of relief from his friend, who was thinking of breaking free from everything finally. 

 

Liam sighed. "Harry...you need to figure everything out before you blindside everyone. You've already hurt Louis enough, he can't take anymore. You have to make things right." 

 

Harry nodded and stayed silent. Liam was right. There was an excitement at the idea of ditching the management team who was supposed to have his best interest at heart and having a close friend do it instead. He loved the idea of Louis coming with him on tour, standing directly to his left backstage, watching him sing. Traveling all over the globe with the love of his life by his side. 

 

But Liam was right, he had to admit. He had to fix some things first.

 

-

 

Louis' eyes tracked the falling snow from where he was laying in bed, curled up underneath the thick blankets. The frost on the window indicated that it was going to be a very cold day, as it should be, being only a few days until Christmas. 

 

He still had to figure out what he was going to do for Christmas, seeing as how he couldn't go to Harry's. He couldn't go home, either, as his family would just ask questions regarding Harry. They had all been keeping up with the tabloids undoubtedly. It was embarrassing. 

 

His phone buzzed and he closed his eyes. Anymore, they were Google alerts about Harry and Camille, or something about the leak, and more hate towards him for outing Harry. Which he might have done, but no one believed that Harry was actually gay. All of the glittery suits and wide leg trousers and painted nails Harry wore and no one even  _suspected_ that The Harry Styles could be interested in men. He was just a boundary breaker, a trendsetter. 

 

After a few moments, he decided to bite the bullet and look at it. It was a text from his mum.  _Turkey is thawing and we're ready for your birthday! When can we expect you?_  

 

He shoved his phone back under his pillow and rolled over. He would reply later, when he had the energy to break his mothers heart. But at the moment, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep and forget about everything for awhile. 

 

He closed his eyes and ignored the fact that his heart was breaking because he was now able to sleep without Harry's body next to his. 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know Harry just performed at MSG, but I'm going to make him perform at MSG in this fic around Christmastime.

Liam kicked off his shoes and locked Niall's door behind him. His night with Harry had left him exhausted and legal jargon was still running through his head. His temples were throbbing and the uniformed men at the doors downstairs didn't help either. 

 

"Ni?" He called, putting his briefcase down. He was sort of hoping no one would answer, and he could just lay on the couch and relax. No such luck, as Louis appeared from the kitchen, two seconds later. 

 

"Hes not here. He went to get dinner." Louis informed him, wiping his hands on a tea towel. Liam wanted to ask if he was cleaning. Louis cleaned when he was stressed out. 

 

Liam studied his friend. He could tell the past few days had really taken a toll. Louis' eyes were sad and tired, and his body seemed too heavy for him to hold up. He sounded absolutely miserable. And he had definitely been cleaning, as the faint scent of bleach hit his nose a few seconds later. 

 

"Awesome. What did you choose?" He went into Niall's living room and Louis followed, plopping down onto the couch. He pulled a heavy blanket over his legs and crossed his arms.  _Finally, he could relax._  

 

"Fish and chips." Louis answered. "I gave him enough money for all of us. Zayn is coming over later." 

 

Liam perked up at that. It was hard to be in a bad mood when he heard that the love of his life was coming over. "Great. It's been a long day." 

 

"What did you do?" Louis inquired. He sat in the armchair across from the couch and crossed his legs. His look, though not intentional, pierced Liam's soul. 

 

Liam hesitated. Could he mention Harry? What was the protocol when something like this happened? Would it seem like he was choosing sides if he said that he was with Harry all evening? 

 

Louis caught on, but he smiled tiredly anyway. "You were with Harry, weren't you?" 

 

Liam nodded. "Yes. He needed help with something." 

 

"It's okay, Liam. You can be his friend. I'd be more upset if you weren't." Louis said. "But is he okay? How's his nose?" 

 

"Black and blue." Liam answered. "It looks bad. He looks bad." 

 

Louis looked down at his lap and pushed the hair from his forehead. "It should make me happy to hear. But it doesn't. It makes me feel worse." He let out a quiet little laugh. "How funny is that? He's the one that's ruined me and I feel bad for him." 

 

"You love him." Liam told him. "And you want to comfort him." 

 

"I do." Louis agreed. Despite everything, there was nothing he wanted more than to crawl in bed next to Harry and be held all night. He wanted to run his fingers through Harry's hair while their legs are tangled together. 

 

"It's okay to feel that way." 

 

"I know." Louis sighed. "Now, anyway. Let's not talk about this. It's way too depressing, and this is coming from someone who can't even leave the flat." 

 

Despite the fact that he could tell how miserable his friend was, Liam smiled. "Funny. How's the schoolwork going?" 

 

"Finished." Louis sounded pleased with himself. "Turned it all in a week early. So essentially, I've got a free week. I wonder what I can do." He pretended to ponder all of the possibilities, then scoffed. 

 

"We can do something." Liam assured him. "Um...watch movies? Lads night?" 

 

Louis smiled and reached forward to pat Liam's knee. "You're a good friend, Payno." He stood, adjusted his shirt, and headed back towards the kitchen. "Are you staying tonight after we eat?" 

 

"If you'll have me." He called back, pulling his phone out of his pocket. There were several messages from Harry, and he thumbed through them. They ranged from,  ** _i'm calling my team tomorrow, are you free? i need to have someone on my side for once_** to  ** _please liam he's all i have. i can't lose him._**

 

He sighed and locked his phone again. He was torn. Harry was one of his friends, but on that same hand, he trusted Harry and never expected him to do what he did to Louis. He didn't understand why he did it or why he continued to do it. He didn't want to take sides and that's what it would feel like if he helped Harry. 

 

He sat in the living room until he heard the front door open. Niall bustled in and paused in the doorway. His arms were full and he stared at Liam. 

 

"Get off yer arse and help me." He said gruffly, heading towards the kitchen. "Two more bags by the door!" 

 

Liam pushed himself off of the chair, his whole exhausted body screaming with protest. After they day he'd had, all he wanted to do was sit, or maybe lay in bed for a few hours. Hell, he just wanted to sleep for a good twelve hours. Maybe when he woke up, Harry wouldn't be a dick and Louis would be happy. 

 

When he got to the little kitchen with the bags, he found both Louis and Niall already hunched over their styrofoam containers of food, munching away. He sat the bags down onto the already cluttered table and put his hands on his hips. 

 

"Couldn't even wait for me?" He shook his head in mock disappointment but joined them anyway. He pulled a box out and opened it. Once he laid eyes on the food, he realized just how hungry he was. 

 

"You're not special." Niall muttered, dragging a french fry through mayo. Liam cringed. 

 

"I am." Liam sniffed. 

 

"He is." Louis agreed glumly, giving Liam a nod. "He's helping Harry." 

 

Liam paused, a chip halfway to his mouth. "I can stop helping him if you don't want me to. I just thought - " 

 

Louis cut him off with a shake of his head. "No, no. Help him. He needs your help, Liam." 

 

"But what are you helping him with?" Niall questioned. 

 

Louis nodded, looking at Niall. "I agree with Niall. I don't know what you're helping him with either." 

 

Liam sat his food down and wiped his hands on a napkin. "He's wanting to get away from his management team." Then, he looked at Louis with a sad look. "I promised him I wouldn't say anything else." 

 

Louis frowned. "What do you mean?" 

 

"He's just going through some stuff and he really wants to be the one to tell you." Liam explained. He walked over to the small fridge and opened it up. Between the half-gallon of orange juice and three containers of yogurt, he found a bottle of ginger ale and grabbed it. "And I think you should hear him out." 

 

"That's ridiculous." Niall chimed in angrily. He was still mad at Harry for what he did, and would stay loyal to Louis. "After what he did? He's lucky Zayn only broke his nose." 

 

Louis looked at Liam with a grimace. "How is it? His nose?" 

 

"Bad." Liam answered, pouring his ginger ale over ice. "He's got some pretty strong painkillers for it, but I think he only takes those before he goes to sleep. He said something like that, I think." 

 

For a brief, scary moment, Louis envisioned Harry getting addicted to the painkillers. He imagined that he would lose Harry forever to them. It was scary and not that unrealistic to think of; a rockstar going through being outed and having to fake a girlfriend, losing his friends and loved ones in a single day, relying heavily on pain medication to get him through. 

 

"Are you okay?" Liam waved his hand in front of Louis' face. He looked concerned, like maybe he could read Louis' thoughts. 

 

"Yeah." He nodded and sat his food down. He was just over halfway done with it, but his appetite was gone. "I think I'm going to head to bed, though. I'm pretty tired." He walked out of the kitchen, thankful that no one pointed out that it was just seven at night, too early to go to bed. 

 

In his room, he changed into a pair of Harry's sweats and one of Harry's sweaters. The fabric still smelled faintly of his lover and he curled up in the middle of his bed. He pulled his phone out and began scrolling through his Facebook. Normal stuff. Lad's night out, his mum posting a picture of their Christmas tree, Zayn updating his profile picture to one of him and Liam next to a snowman they'd built. 

 

Nothing from Harry's private Facebook, which still held the generic profile picture. He'd been asking Louis if he could update it, to the one of them on the beach. It was cliche but romantic and one of Harry's favorite pictures of the two. Louis never allowed him to do so. It was too easy to find someone on Facebook, and the generic faceless picture made it seem that a fan had created the profile pretending to be Harry. It was a deterrent, really. 

 

He was so tempted to text Harry, or to call, just to hear Harry answer. It had been so long since he'd called and Harry had actually answered. He really couldn't even remember. Sighing, he rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Of course, Harry was probably relaxing in his hotel room somewhere with Camille, instead of wondering what to do about their relationship. 

 

Once again, it was left up to him to decide what to do. He rolled back over and curled up, pillow between his arms. He was always the one that was spooned, but the pillow was a nice substitute for a bedfellow. 

 

-

 

Unsurprisingly, Louis was alone in the flat two days later. He was planning to spend the whole day on the sofa, and that plan was doing well until the doorbell rang around noon. Groaning, he rolled himself off and shuffled to the door, glancing down at his blank phone. No one had called or texted, and he wasn't expecting anyone to stop by. 

 

He swung the door open, thinking after the fact that he should maybe start using the peephole. Standing on the other side of the door was a complete stranger, standing next to a caddy full of grocery bags. His hat said  _Fresh & Fast_ in cursive and Louis eyed him wearily. 

 

"Yes?" He stood in the doorway and put his hand on the doorknob from the inside, just in case he had to close it suddenly. 

 

"Louis Tomlinson?" The guy glanced up through brown eyes. He was average looking, not that Louis was in the market or anything. 

 

"Uh, yes?" He was sure the confusion was clear on his face and he hoped the guy would clarify some things soon. 

 

"Sign here please?" A clipboard was thrust towards him, a pen dangling by a metal link. 

 

"What exactly am I signing?" He took the clipboard anyway, holding the pen in his hand. He stared at the guy. 

 

"Grocery delivery." The guy answered, as it was obvious. He gestured to the cart of brown paper bags, almost as if to say  _duh_. 

 

"I didn't order any groceries." He tried to hand the clipboard back, but the guy shook his head. 

 

"You didn't order it, someone else did." He informed Louis. "This is the delivering address. Sign here please?" He gestured to the clipboard while looking down at his watch. He looked like a college kid with some free time, so Louis wondered what could be so pressing. 

 

"Who ordered it?" He asked, signing his name in loopy cursive across the bottom. He wasn't going to deny free groceries. 

 

The guy shrugged and pushed the cart into the apartment, completely bypassing Louis and the half-closed door. "Dunno. There's a note or something in there. I'm going to unload this and then go." 

 

"Right..." Louis followed him, confused as all hell. "Do I tip or something?" 

 

The guy shook his head and finished putting up the last of many brown paper bags onto the small table. "Oh, no. The bloke who ordered this stuff left a big tip. Reckon I can make my car payment with it." He finished and turned to Louis. "Cheers." He said before leaving. 

 

"Big tip. Got it." Louis nodded his head. Harry. It was Harry. He didn't even have to read the note or whatever the guy said was in there. He just knew that it was Harry. He was almost disappointed. No word from Harry in days, only a grocery delivery. 

 

"Fuck me." He sighed, putting his phone on the counter. "Let's see what he decided we need." He began emptying the bags, ashamed to say his hands were shaking. He felt the ghost of a breath at his neck, as if Harry was standing right behind him, watching him. Soon, the bags were empty and folded under his arm, and he surveyed the table. There was the necessities; free-range eggs, grass fed milk, organic bread. There was some vegetable pasta, mainly for Liam, because when he and Zayn visited, Liam did the cooking. A few fruits here, some vegetables there. 

 

Then came the fun stuff, the stuff Harry got specifically for him. Spicy beef jerky, his favorite crisps, some fancy chocolate that he could never afford. Frozen pizza, his favorite flavored water. The sour candy that Harry couldn't stand. 

 

His throat felt oddly tight as he put the food away, stuffing his own into a brown paper bag again. He stuffed what wasn't frozen into the pantry and picked his phone up again. He sent Niall a text,  _Harry sent us groceries._ He was halfway down the hallway when his phone pinged. 

 

 _????_ Niall sent him. 

 

He rolled his eyes and replied.  _Exactly what I said. harry. sent. us. groceries._

 

 _Why? i mean we're poor but still_.Niall sent back, including a few emojis. Too many, if you asked Louis. Then, another came through.  _How do you know it was him?_

 

 _Delivery boy._ Louis texted back.  _Also I guess there was a note. I didn't read it_. 

 

 _Why?????_ Was Niall's quick response. 

 

 _Because. Let's just accept the free food and get on with our lives_. He texted back, plopping down on the couch. He reached for the remote and turned it on. There was a rerun of  _Friends_ so he kept it on that. 

 

Just as Phoebe was trying to teach Joey French, his phone buzzed again. It was Niall, of course, asking,  _Still haven't talked to him then?_  

 

 _Nope_.  _And don't plan on it._ His stomach lurched a tiny bit as he typed. Of  _course_ he wanted to talk to Harry again. He wanted to talk to Harry and have Harry hold him and curl up next to him in bed. He still wanted forever with Harry, and he didn't know how to work through that. His mind was a huge jumbled mess and this grocery delivery didn't help him at all. 

 

-

 

Harry held two fingers to his black eye and faced his management team. He was sprawled comfortably on the couch opposite of their table, where the four of them were staring him down. Although their stares were intimidating, his face was throbbing and his heart was angry and he was in no mood to take their shit, and they would soon find that out. 

 

"That's quite the shiner," Jeff commented, pressing his fingertips together. He was swirling back and forth on his chair, uncaring. "Do you need any pain relief?" 

 

 _The only pain relief would be for Louis to press a kiss to it and play with his curls as he fell asleep._ "I'm good." He declined shortly. 

 

Diane, an older woman with a blunt, short haircut and cat-eye glasses, folded her arms over the desk and stared at him. "How's Louis?" 

 

The look on her face told him that she, and everybody else, was trying to get a rise out of him. Well, it wasn't going to work. He was going to channel all his anger into figuring out how to leave them. For his sake and Louis'. 

 

"He's amazing. As always." He answered. 

 

Jeff grinned like the Cheshire Cat, slow and cynical. "Now, let's get to the important stuff." 

 

Harry cocked a brow. Was he making a dig at Louis? "Let's." Harry agreed. "I thought it would be more appropriate to fire you four in person rather than via email." 

 

Diane paused shuffling papers, Jeff just stared at him. The other two looked pretty unbothered, as if they didn't believe him. 

 

"Fire?  _Us_?" Jeff seemed humored. "And why are you  _firing_ us?" He glanced at the other three, who were now cracking smiles. Harry clenched a fist.  _Remember why you're here. This is all for Louis._  

 

"My lawyer can handle all of that," He waved a hand. If they can act amused and unbothered, so could he. "But the lack of professionalism between you four is simply hysterical. Now, if you'll excuse me." He was poised to stand, but Diane spoke up. 

 

"You're under contract, Harry." She pointed a finger. "If you breach it in anyway, you face the possibility of being fined and possibly sued." 

 

He stood to his full height and laughed, shaking his head. God, was he ready to take a pill and go to sleep. "Once again, my lawyer will be in contact with you lot. But I see that you have failed to read in full the contract you drew up for me. I was to be under your management for two years. However, at one year and six months, you four offered me the opportunity to explore other options, no penalties." 

 

Jeff leaned back in his seat. 

 

"I signed that contract one year and seven months ago." Harry walked to the door. "When I step out of this room, my lawyer will call you. I will call the press. And then I will get my boy back." 

 

-

 

Four hours later, there was a knock on the flat's door. Knowing it wasn't Niall or Liam or Zayn, Louis peered through the peephole before opening it to reveal Patrick. Someone he hadn't talked to in days. 

 

"What are you doing here?" He blurted out, nervously eyeing the corridor. He didn't want anyone with cameras following Patrick, or worse, Harry could walk up and see them. For one single fleeting moment, Louis wondered what Harry would do if he stumbled upon this scene. 

 

"Nice to see you too." Patrick gave him a quirky half-grin. He held over a stack of papers. "Your grade in English, and a list of books you'll need for next semester. Mr. White's printer wasn't working, otherwise he would have emailed the report." 

 

"Oh," Louis took the papers and glanced down. He had a perfect grade, unsurprisingly. "Thank you." 

 

Patrick looked around. "What's with the security at the front door? I had to show my student ID to get in." 

 

He had forgotten all about that. "Sorry. Apparently there's a celebrity in the building or something." He lied, hoping it was convincing enough. "Do you want to come in?" 

 

Patrick shook his head. "Thank you, but I've got to get home. Leaving early tomorrow morning to beat traffic." 

 

"Of course. Well, text me?" Louis stepped back into the flat. "Travel safe." 

 

Patrick waved and headed back down the hall, and he closed the door. So. He'd been face to face with Patrick, the nice guy he was trying to make Harry jealous with, and Harry didn't magically appear in the hallway and demand to know what was going on. 

 

He peeked inside the envelope and groaned at the thick packet that he assumed to be the reading list. A list of expensive books he'd be required to have. He pulled it out just to look and swallowed. He'd been dreading getting a few of the books because he knew they came with a hefty price tag. How was he going to pay for them? They would certainly be checked out of the library. 

 

He grabbed his cell phone and was just about to check his bank account when it lit up with a text. It was from Harry.  _baby_ was all it said. He unlocked his phone and saw that Harry was typing another one. 

 

 _i need to talk to you please_ was the second one. A third came a nanosecond later,  _can i call? can i come over?_

 

Normally, he'd lock his phone and shove it back into his pocket, but something compelled him to respond. He wanted to talk to Harry. He  _needed_ to talk to Harry. And he was tired of pretending that he could ignore Harry and not feel hurt or upset. 

 

He replied with shaky fingers.  _either_. 

 

After that, he closed his phone and held it against his chest. He knew which one Harry would pick, and his heart was thudding in his chest. 

 

-

 

Eight minutes later there was a knock on the flat door. He jumped up from his position on the couch and hurried over. His whole body felt numb, yet he was excited. He opened the door and the breath was knocked from his body. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed Harry until they were face to face. 

 

"Baby." Harry croaked. There was so much pain in his green eyes that Louis was speechless. Harry's hands were outstretched, fingers flexing, as if he wanted to hug Louis but couldn't. Louis wished he would. 

 

He stepped back and allowed Harry to come in. He closed the door behind them and leaned back against it, staring at Harry. They were standing so close he could smell Harry's cologne. He ached to put his nose in the crook of Harry's neck and inhale. 

 

"How - " Harry started, clearing his throat. He seemed so nervous. He raked a hand through his unkempt hair, leaving strands sticking up all over the place. 

 

"How's your nose?" Louis interrupted, rubbing at his own. He couldn't take his eyes off of the purple of Harry's nose, and the dark smudges under his eyes. He'd always loved Harry's strong, Roman nose, with it's imperfect bump in the middle. However it would heal, he would still love it, but he couldn't stand seeing the pain it caused Harry. 

 

Harry pursed his lips. He acted as if he wanted to say something else, but ignored it in favor of answering Louis' question. "Uh, hurts. Zayn got me pretty good." 

 

He pushed himself off of the door and stepped forward, reaching a shaky arm outward. Harry barely winced when his fingers brushed gently under his eye. "I'm sorry." He wanted to cry. It was his fault that Harry's gorgeous face was purpled and hurt. 

 

"Baby." Harry sounded wounded. His larger hand came up to wrap around Louis' wrist, holding it gently. "It's okay. I deserved it." 

 

"But you don't." Louis shook his head. "No matter how much you deserve it, you don't. I know that doesn't make any sense. But - " 

 

"No," Harry interrupted. "It does." He nodded jerkily and cleared his throat again. He seemed almost bashful, almost how he was when they were first dating. "I deserve it. And I'm surprised he didn't kill me. I think he wanted to." 

 

"I think they all want to." Louis said without thinking. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them, and the wounded look on Harry's face made him feel worse. 

 

"Do you?" Harry asked hesitantly. He looked nervous. Worry was swimming in his green eyes. 

 

It took him all of two seconds to shake his head slowly. Somehow, though, the relief that crossed Harry's face made him upset. He had every right to want to kill Harry. "I don't want to kill you, Harry." He said. "I want you to hurt the way I hurt, but I don't want to kill you." 

 

"Baby," Harry sounded pained. 

 

"You don't get to call me that anymore." As much as he hated saying it, it needed to be said. Harry needed to know. "And you should probably get back to..." 

 

"I don't need to be anywhere." Harry said. "We need to talk." 

 

Sighing, he pushed past Harry and headed to the kitchen. If they were going to talk, he at least needed something to drink. He wasn't surprised at all that Harry followed him. He opened the refrigerator and searched for a bottle of anything. He huffed when he came up short. 

 

"You need alcohol to talk to me?" Came Harry's incredibly sad voice. When Louis turned, he saw Harry, standing pigeon-toed by the door, shoulders hunched and eyed sad. 

 

"Yes." He answered bluntly. "And you don't get to be sad about it. At least I'm talking to you. Not that you deserve it." 

 

"What - " 

 

He decided to make some tea. "Remember all those times, or actually, not  _all those times_ , that you would call me and not even talk to me? Our last phone conversation lasted like a minute, Harry." He slammed the doors on some cabinets angrily. 

 

"I don't think - " 

 

Louis swiveled around and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "The last few phone conversations, look." He thrust it towards Harry, scrolling. "The last text you sent me was three weeks ago, not including tonight. And look at all these ones you read but didn't reply to! Every single one of them is I love you. Why the fuck couldn't you type it back? Jesus Christ, did you not even love me back then?" 

 

Harry's nostrils flared. "I still love you - " 

 

"You have a fucking funny way of showing it." He sat his phone on the counter. "I get that it's probably hard to text while fucking your girlfriend, but for fuck's sake - " 

 

It was Harry's turn to be angry, and he stepped forward, looking down at Louis. "I have  _never_ fucked her - " 

 

"Fine, how about everyone else then? Hm?" Louis challenged. "Because you sure as hell look cozy with every person who looks at you." 

 

"I have  _never_ slept with anyone but  _you_ ," Harry jabbed a finger into Louis' chest, not even caring at the moment. "You are the only person I have ever had sex with. You are the only person I have ever  _wanted_ to have sex with. How  _dare_ you forget that." 

 

"Fuck you, Harry." Louis fired back, slapping Harry's hand away. He hoped it hurt. "You haven't done anything to make me believe you're not fucking every other person on the planet." 

 

"You should trust me, Louis." Harry's voice was sharp and angry. "I don't like that you think that I would cheat on you." 

 

"And  _I_ don't like that you wouldn't tell me if you did!" Louis shouted. It was probably unnecessary, seeing as how they were only a few inches apart. Then, he lowered his voice and rubbed his eyes. "I don't like it when I have to learn what city you're in by reading the internet. I don't like seeing pictures of you with some naked girl on  _our_ instagram page. I don't like it when you don't even send me a goodnight text anymore. Everyone else has your focus and I just don't want to deal with it anymore." 

 

"Louis..." Harry's eyes softened. 

 

Shaking his head, Louis stepped back. He was afraid that if they got any closer, he might do something stupid, like hug Harry. And that was something he wanted more than anything, so it couldn't happen. 

 

"Until you get your act together, I think we're better off not seeing each other." 

 

Harry's nostrils flared, a sure sign that he didn't like what he was hearing. "Why do you do this shit?" 

 

Louis was sure that his eyebrows shot off of his forehead. "Do  _what_?" He shrilled. 

 

Harry threw his hands out and shrugged. "I don't know, Louis,  _this_ shit. You always fucking do this. I can't win with you." 

 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Louis put his hands on his hips. 

 

"You bitch and you moan that I don't do shit - " 

 

"You  _don't_!" Louis shrieked. 

 

" - and when I try, and by God, I'm fucking trying, you complain about that!" Harry shouted. "I literally can't win with you!" 

 

Louis put his hands on the side of his face and groaned. "Are you kidding?" He yelled back. "Are you stupid? You think that you can buy me groceries after  _weeks_ of ignoring me for some naked girls is you  _trying_?" 

 

"I don't know what you want me to do!" Harry raked his hands through his short hair, causing it to stand up in all different directions. "What do you want me to do?" 

 

"I'm not even going to answer that." He shook his head and leaned against the counter. "If you don't know the answer by now..." 

 

"I can't read your mind, Louis." Harry said, defeated. 

 

"Harry, we've been dating for five years. You should know everything about me. You should know that I don't like seeing you with other people. I know that maybe it's in a contract or something but there have to be boundaries. You should know that I would appreciate a text or a call every now and then, not a twenty second conversation about you now knowing what my favorite kind of pie is. You should  _know_ not to call me while speaking to others in the background." 

 

"I've made mistakes. I know that and I own that. And here I am trying to remedy this whole fucked up situation, and you're fighting me on it." 

 

"I'm not fighting you," Louis turned around. He gestured between their two bodies. "I'm fighting  _this_. This whole situation where you go on tour for nine months and leave me. Where you don't talk to me or explain things to me. I would be great if you called me beforehand and explained that you had to do pap pictures that would upset me. I wouldn't even get upset if you did that. But you didn't, and you're standing in Niall's flat, screaming that you don't know what to do." 

 

Harry glanced around, as if he was just noticing that they were in fact in Niall's flat. He pinched the bridge of his nose and immediately winced. Louis even winced and stepped forward, hand out, as if that itself could take the immediate pain that flooded Harry. 

 

"Why the fuck are we in Niall's flat?" He breathed, eyes clenched shut. 

 

Louis turned and opened the cabinet doors, searching for any sort of pain reliever. "Because I moved in with him." 

 

Harry paused, and sank down into a kitchen chair. "I've been paying for the flat still." 

 

"Yes," Louis nodded. "You are. And it's fair." 

 

Harry shook his head but laughed under his breath. "Right. Of course it's fair." He held out his hand when he heard Louis get closer, and Louis shook some tablets into his hand. After that, he handed Harry some tea, a little cold, but Harry drank it down anyway. He shook his head, wincing at the bitter taste. 

 

"I don't know how much those will help," Louis said about the pills. "I usually use them for headaches." 

 

"They'll be fine." Harry muttered, hand covering his face. "I have stronger ones at the hotel. I use those to help me sleep." 

 

Louis glanced around. "Are they sleeping pills?" He pressed. As if it was any of his business. 

 

Harry shook his head. 

 

"How strong are they?" 

 

Harry sighed heavily. "Are you looking for something else to bitch at me about?" He snapped. "They're very strong and they knock me out for hours. Probably come with a warning list a mile long but I don't care." 

 

A lump grew in Louis' throat, and he cleared it. "I don't like hearing you say that. Please be careful." 

 

Another sigh from Harry. He lowered his hand to the table and stared at Louis. His gaze was so intense that Louis shifted from one foot to the other. "I have a concert coming up." 

 

Louis nodded. He knew. 

 

"Unscheduled. Um, at MSG." Harry continued. He sounded choked up. Louis wanted to wrap himself around Harry and never let go. "On your birthday." 

 

Louis inhaled a shaky breath. He knew what was coming. 

 

"I want you to be there." Harry wasn't asking, he was pleading. Tears swam in his green eyes. He didn't have much hope that Louis would say yes. 

 

Unsteady on his feet, Louis sank down into a kitchen chair opposite of Harry. "Harry..." 

 

"Don't say no. Please. I need you to be there. I've already got your ticket, and you can stay in my hotel room with me." Harry said. "This is my biggest concert. Maybe of my life. I can't do it without you." 

 

Louis reached across the table and grabbed one of Harry's hands in his own. He'd missed the warmth of Harry's larger hands, his long fingers, the cool press of the many rings. The cross tattoo. He missed Harry's hands on his body, touching and bringing pleasure, bringing comfort and love. 

 

"I can't leave, Harry. Not that close to Christmas." He explained, squeezing Harry's hand tighter when Harry tried to pull away. It almost pulled him out of his chair, but he held strong and even scooted his chair closer. "You're supposed to be going to my mum's house with me. We're supposed to celebrate my birthday there and then go to your mum's house on Christmas day." 

 

Harry shook his head and tried to pull away again. "I don't know why I asked."

 

"You asked because you want me there." Louis said. "Stop pulling away from me. This is the most fucking contact I've had with you in forever." He swallowed another lump in his throat and blinked back the few tears that decided to flood his eyes. "I want to go." 

 

Harry glanced up in hope. "Then come." 

 

"I can't go. I can't go and sit in the crowd and watch you on stage." He shook his head. "I can't be another nameless fan while your girlfriend is backstage, ready to hug you when you're done." 

 

"You fucking  _won't_." Harry growled through clenched teeth. "You'll be right to my left, so I can look at you and sing to you." 

 

"I don't think you understand how hard this is for me." Louis whispered. "After what we've been through, what you put me through...I can't accept this out of the blue offer. I'll just get my heart broken again - " 

 

"Again?" Harry interrupted, voice small. "You're heartbroken?" 

 

Louis nodded. 

 

"I broke your heart?" Harry asked, but he sounded like he already knew the answer. He leaned back and looked away, brushing a finger underneath an eye, no doubt wiping away a tear. Then, he looked back at Louis. "Did I? Did I?" He raised his voice. 

 

"Harry - " Louis watched as Harry stood up, knocking his chair back. He began to pace, tugging at his hair. "Harry, stop." 

 

Harry turned on his heel and stomped over to the chair Louis was sitting at. He loomed over it, and Louis leaned back. It did nothing to put distance between them. They were so close that their breath was mingling. His body ached. It had missed this closeness. 

 

"You're coming." Harry's voice was low and eerily calm. "And you're going to watch me sing and then we're going to go back to the hotel room and we're going to fix this." 

 

It was all too much for Louis. The closeness, Harry's demands. He let out a choked little sob and shook his head. "I can't, Harry." He hiccuped and sniffled, probably unattractive, but it didn't stop Harry from hauling him up by the shoulders. It only made him cry harder. 

 

"Stop crying." He demanded, but it wasn't mean or hurtful. It was another plea. He couldn't stand hearing Louis cry. He was still holding Louis' shoulders, and if he wasn't, he was afraid that Louis would crumple to the floor. "Stop crying." This time it was a croak. 

 

"Harry." Louis sobbed out. He managed to wrangle out of Harry's hold enough to clutch at the taller man's shirt, pulling him closer. Thankfully, Harry got the hint, and tugged him closer until he was squeezing. 

 

Louis let out a shaky exhale at the contact. He'd missed it  _so_ much. He was lightheaded and dizzy and sick to his stomach from the crying, but as long as he was in Harry's arms, he knew everything would be okay. 

 

"Baby," Harry chanted. "Baby, baby, baby." He rocked them back and forth, clutching onto Louis tightly.  _God_. How did he go so long without it? 

 

"Harry," Louis sniffled and tilted his head back. His eyes were watery and his face was tear-streaked, but to Harry, he was the most beautiful creature on the planet. "Wanna lay down." 

 

"Okay baby." Harry nodded. He pulled Louis in tighter, nosing at his neck. "Let's go lay down." 

 

"Stay with me?" Louis asked into Harry's shoulder. He was trembling, Harry could feel it. That simply wouldn't do. He led Louis from the kitchen and into the bedroom he'd been in only once, where everything got fucked up. 

 

He pulled the blankets down and when Louis climbed in, he climbed in behind him. Their bodies found each other again, and they lay in complete, blissful silence. Louis sniffled again, and Harry held him even closer. 

 

"We'll talk tomorrow, Harry." Louis whispered. "I promise." 

 

Harry only nodded, and shifted them into a more comfortable position. It was hours before he finally fell asleep. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

It was four-eighteen in the morning and Louis was wide awake. He was laying on his back, staring at the ceiling above him. The light from the moon was throwing shadows and when he saw the shadow of a teacup, he thought that maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. He was laying still, afraid that if he moved, Harry would sense it and wake up, thinking that he was offering something more. 

 

He cut his eyes across the bed and stared at Harry. Harry, who was sleeping peacefully, despite what had happened just a few hours earlier. Was it hours? It could have been just sixty minutes ago, or six hours ago. His mind was blank and he was unable to create any thoughts. Could he be going crazy? Was he so touch deprived that his brain short-circuited at the littlest hint of affection from Harry? 

 

Should he have stopped it? When Harry had rolled over and pressed himself into Louis, he thought that it was an accident. But when he felt Harry's hand roaming up his shirt and over his stomach, he thought that he was dreaming. And when he felt Harry's lips on the back of his neck, he felt...wanted. He felt like he felt before Harry got famous and left him - left their life like it was nothing. 

 

Maybe he shouldn't have turned around, and maybe he shouldn't have snogged with Harry like his life depended on it. Did he get any points at all for stopping it before it went too far? When was a good time to have morals? Was he absolutely crazy for shutting down what was the first touch from Harry in a long time and probably the last tough from him for awhile? 

 

He reached a hand forward and let it linger against Harry's nose. He let his pointer finger trace down the swollen bump gently. Even in his sleep, Harry flinched and jerked his head away. Louis paused, hand hovering in the air. He hoped that Harry didn't wake, and he didn't. He liked to think that it was because Harry was so comfortable laying in sheets that smelled familiar; that smelled like home. 

 

It was probably something else, but he let himself dream. 

 

He sighed and let his hand drop down beside him. His fingers itched to find Harry's and twirl them together. One of the things he missed the most was holding Harry's hand. Somehow it made him feel safer. It brought their size difference into perspective, too, and he loved how he was significantly smaller than Harry. He's always loved it, and Harry's always loved it. 

 

He looked to Harry again and his heart hurt. Was Harry so unbothered by everything that he could get a good nights sleep? He himself hadn't had a good nights sleep since Harry went on tour. His sleep pattern was fucked at best. 

 

He rolled over, thinking that maybe if he wasn't looking at Harry, he'd be able to sleep peacefully. It lasted all of three minutes. That's when Harry shifted and grumbled something unintelligible and flung a heavy arm across Louis' waist, pulling him back. Once their bodies were touching in every available place, he was happy and seemed to settle down. 

 

It would have been nice, and it would have been comfortable, if Louis' stomach wasn't churning. He stilled when he felt Harry shifting around behind him. He held his breath, waiting for Harry to settle down again. His body dipped with the movement of Harry's and he closed his eyes. 

 

"Louis?" Harry's bleary voice asked. 

 

He cleared his throat. "Yes?" 

 

Some more shifting, and then a tentative hand at his waist. "Are you okay?" 

 

"Yes." He answered. What he meant to say was,  _no, I'm not okay. What you did was totally out of line and inappropriate. You have a girlfriend for fuck's sake. You can't pick and choose when you want to come and go out of my life._ But it came out as a  _yes_ , so. 

 

"You're not." Harry disagreed. "Is it because of what happened earlier?" 

 

Silence. Then, "Yes." 

 

Harry sighed heavily, and somehow that made him feel even shittier. "I'm sorry. I guess my body reacted to sleeping next to you." 

 

"That would explain your hard-on." Louis agreed quietly. "But what would explain the kissing part?" 

 

"Bad judgement?" Was Harry's answer, and it came out more like a guess. 

 

He swallowed around a hard lump in his throat.  _Bad judgement._ Was that all he was? After five years together? Harry kissing him was  _bad judgement?_ "Right." He nodded. "Right. Okay." 

 

Another heavy sigh. "What do you want me to say?" 

 

"I don't want you to say anything." Louis answered. "Just go to sleep." 

 

He could tell Harry was getting huffy by the way the bed was moving, and the way the sheets were being jerked around and pushed into position. He closed his eyes again and waited for Harry to stop moving so he could sleep. 

 

"Maybe it was a mistake sleeping in here tonight." Harry mumbled, just loud enough for Louis to hear. Loud enough to start a fight. 

 

He squeezed his eyes closed tighter. "Maybe." 

 

It was quiet for a bit after that, and he rolled onto his back after several moments. There was a little space between their bodies, not enough that their arms were touching, but just enough to feel the heat from their bodies. 

 

Harry wasn't asleep. He could tell from the breathing. When asleep, Harry's breaths evened out and were silent. But awake - and in that moment - they were quick and aggravated. 

 

They must have laid there for twenty more minutes before Louis spoke again. His quiet voice filled the room. 

 

"Harry," 

 

It took a moment for Harry to answer. "What?" 

 

"Do you remember that time," He began. He couldn't even say the first five words without getting choked up. "We were at that bar, and that guy came up to me? He wouldn't leave me alone and you got so mad. You never liked it when boys paid too much attention to me." 

 

"Which was all the time." Harry said. It wasn't bitter or mean, it was the truth. Louis was so incredibly beautiful and the general public must not have been able to handle it. 

 

"You were so jealous." Louis continued. "You hated it. You threatened to beat him up."

 

Harry's response was to clear this throat. 

 

"Harry," He said again, after a beat or two. 

 

"What?" 

 

He sniffled, already starting to tear up. "I went on a date with a boy and you didn't even care." He took a shaky breath and refused to glance over at Harry. 

 

"Louis..." Harry sighed quietly, and that probably hurt more than any words would. "You wouldn't have done anything. You just needed my attention." 

 

He was wrong. The words hurt worse than the sigh. 

 

"What if I had planned to have sex with him?" The words tasted bitter coming out of his mouth. He didn't even want to think about having sex with someone who wasn't Harry. It made him feel gross. 

 

"I know you wouldn't have done anything." Harry's voice was tight, but he sounded confident. "You'd never." 

 

"Just like you'd never ignore me for weeks." Louis replied, taking another shaky breath. He tried to discreetly wipe away a few tears but he knew Harry caught the movement. "Just like you'd never go out and date and not tell me about it. Just like you'd never - " He cut himself off with a teary sniffle. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Harry's head turn to look at him. " - Just like you'd never sit with naked models on your lap." 

 

It was too much to say, and he rolled over so that his back was facing Harry. That way, he could cry and Harry couldn't see how pathetic he was. 

 

When Harry spoke, it was quiet and sad. "You're saying you'd sleep with someone else?" 

 

Taking a page from Harry's book, he waited a good while before answering. "Are you telling me you haven't?" 

 

-

 

 Waking up in the morning was bittersweet. It had been so long since Louis had opened his eyes and found that he'd been cradled in Harry's arms all night. It was mildly embarrassing to wake up and have his own hand clutching onto the arm Harry had thrown over his side. It was more embarrassing to realize that Harry was hard and it was pressing against his bottom. 

 

He had to turn into a contortionist to get out of that mess. But as soon as he was free from Harry's limbs, his body missed being pressed against Harry's. Damn. He had to get his shit together. 

 

He left his room and padded into the kitchen. He was heading to the fridge but an incessant buzzing noise made him detour to the counter, where Harry's phone sat. Out of sheer curiosity, he picked it up. Harry had several text messages from Camille. His chest was tight as he put in Harry's password - still 1224, his birthday - and thumbed through them. 

 

Each one made him fainter and fainter. He didn't know what he was expecting, but he was relieved that there were no dirty pictures or texts. But it didn't distract him from the fact that Camille liked to call him pet names, and that she  _still_ didn't know Harry was gay, and had been all his life. 

 

One text,  _haaaaaarryyyyyyy. i'm bored!! come and pick me up, let's do something,_ made him narrow his eyes in anger. He couldn't explain it rationally, but it didn't settle with him well that not only were Harry and Camille dating, but he'd formed a friendship with her as well. He didn't like that one bit. 

 

"What are you doing?" Harry asked from behind him, and he turned. His stomach swooped at the sight of Harry barefoot and sleepy in his kitchen. Then he noticed the look on Harry's face and that all went away. "Are you snooping?" 

 

He clutched Harry's phone tightly in his hand. "I have a right to know this." He defended himself. 

 

"No you don't." Harry stepped forward, making a beeline for his phone, which Louis tucked behind his back. 

 

"Yes I do." He said. "When your girlfriend is texting you nonstop - " 

 

"She is not my girlfriend." Harry sighed. "Now give me my phone." 

 

Louis backed up. "You're awfully protective of this. Do you have anything on there you don't want me to see? Past liaisons, perhaps? Booty calls saved under restaurant names?" 

 

Harry swore. "Fuck, no." He shook his head. "I don't know where you come up with this shit. You cook up all these ideas in your brain so you'll have something to yell at me for." 

 

Louis' mouth opened a bit in surprise. "Harry - " He didn't know what to say. "I don't have to cook anything up. I have plenty to yell at you for, and rightfully so." 

 

Harry seemed unbothered as he walked over to the refrigerator. "I think you've said all you needed to." He said, grabbing the carton of orange juice. "Now we need to remedy everything." 

 

Louis blinked at him. "You think that we've spoken about everything already? You feel good, then? Everything feels okay to you?" 

 

Harry sighed. "Obviously not." He snapped. "This is a bit fucked up. But instead of talking at me, Louis, you need to talk with me." 

 

"What do you think I've been doing?" He crossed the room and sat across from Harry, who was leaning back in one of their kitchen chairs. "It's so hard to talk to you when you act like this." 

 

"Like what?" Harry challenged. 

 

Louis made a wild gesture with his hands. "Like  _this_! Bored, unbothered. Like you'd rather be anywhere else. Well, you came back here, so you have to listen to what I say. You're going to listen to all of the shit you've put me through and then maybe we'll remedy everything."

 

Harry's phone buzzed in his hands, reminding him that he was still holding it. He sat it on the table and slid it across to Harry, keeping his hand over the screen. 

 

"You can have this back, but  _please_ tell her to stop texting you. Actually, just block her." He requested. His tone was pleading and he didn't feel at all bad about it. 

 

"I can't do that." Harry shook his head. "I need her number specifically for our contract." 

 

"Harry." He said. "Block it. I cannot talk to you knowing that she's texting you." 

 

Harry glanced down at his vibrating phone. 

 

"Do not answer that. Don't answer any message she sends you. Not while you're in my flat." He requested. Maybe he sounded crazy or hysterical, but he couldn't maintain his normally calm attitude when things between him and Harry were so fragile. He was scared. 

 

He was afraid that Harry was going to refuse again and pick up his phone, and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Harry turned it off instead. His relief must have shown because Harry's face twisted into something unrecognizable. 

 

"Niall's flat." Harry finally said, quietly. His eyes bore into Louis'. 

 

"What?" He'd heard Harry correctly, but didn't know why Harry said it. 

 

"This isn't your flat." Harry said. "This is Niall's flat." 

 

Louis looked around. The kitchen had become so familiar to him. He didn't remember what the kitchen in the flat he shared with Harry looked like. Was that bad? "I stay here now." 

 

"Why?" Harry demanded, sitting upright. He shouldn't slouch anyway. "Why do you live with Niall now?" 

 

Louis opened his mouth. "You  _knew_ I was living with Niall." 

 

"No. I found out when I went back to our flat and you and your things were gone." Harry said. "I was paying for an empty flat." 

 

"Why would I stay there, Harry?" Louis asked. He resisted the urge to start yelling. "We aren't together anymore. We haven't been for a long time. I moved before you could kick me out." Then, he snorted. "Before you could have the  _landlord_ kick me out." 

 

Harry frowned. "You think I would do that? You honestly think that I would kick you out?" 

 

"Yes." He nodded. 

 

"And since when are we not together?" Harry asked, crossing his arms. He had a scowl on his face. "Did I miss the call where we broke up?" 

 

"Harry, we've broken up every single time we've spoken over the phone." Louis sighed. "We broke up every time you didn't call, too. We broke up in so many words and in so many ways, Harry." 

 

"We haven't." 

 

"We have, Harry!" He raised his voice. "You don't have any time for me anymore! And you have a girlfriend, for fuck's sake." 

 

Harry shoved himself back from the table, the legs of his chair screeching across the floor. He loomed, fists clenched. "It's for publicity, Louis! How many fucking times can I say that?" He stormed out of the kitchen, and Louis followed. 

 

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, grabbing at the back of Harry's shirt. 

 

"I'm leaving. If all you're going to do is accuse me of shit, I'm going." Harry answered, stopping at the door to put his shoes on. 

 

Louis had had enough. He pushed at Harry's shoulders. "No, stay and fight! Dammit, Harry, stay and fight. I'm trying to work things out with you and you're going to leave? Are you kidding me?" 

 

"We're not solving anything!" Harry shouted back. His voice was louder and meaner when he yelled, but Louis didn't shrink back. His heart rate spiked, but he held his ground. "And why should we? We're not together anymore!" 

 

"And you're okay with that?" Louis stepped back. "You're okay with it?" 

 

Shrugging, Harry pulled his coat off of the rack and hung it over his arm. "I don't know, Louis. You don't seem very keen on getting back together." His body was distant and his tone was cold. It hurt more than it should have. 

 

"Harry," He placed a hand on his belly to ground himself, and Harry's eyes followed the movement. "If you leave, you can't come back. If you leave, never talk to me again." 

 

"You've said that before." Harry remembered. 

 

"I mean it this time. You can't do this anymore. You can't have me waiting at home for you. I should be next to you, not someone else." He exhaled slowly. "You can't have it both ways."

 

"I can't come out" yet Harry shook his head. "I want too, but I can't." 

 

"Why." Louis didn't ask. He demanded. 

 

Harry looked conflicted, like he didn't want to say anything. "Because it's almost promo season." He finally admitted. "I'm releasing a single soon." 

 

"Why lie to everyone?" Louis asked. 

 

Harry didn't answer, but he looked sad, and almost guilty? And then it dawned on Louis. 

 

"You're not lying to everyone else." He realized. "You're lying to yourself." He stepped back, probably looking horrified if the face Harry was making was any indication. 

 

Harry shook his head and reached out. "No." He denied. "Are you kidding me? Why would I fuck a guy for five years if I was lying to myself?"

 

"That's all you have to say?" Louis asked, scoffing. "Just fucking a guy for five years? Nothing about the commitment we shared or the promise of marriage? Or when you said you wanted to start a family with me?" 

 

Harry's nostrils flared. "That's not what I meant. You're twisting everything I say." 

 

"I'm not - I don't mean to. Harry, I just want to get on the same page." He rubbed at his face with both hands. He probably looked as tired as he felt. "I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. I just want to know why you did what you did. What you're doing." 

 

Harry's sharp edges softened. "I wanted to keep a level head." 

 

"But it got to you." Louis said. When he saw Harry's face scrunching up again, he was quick to reach out and grab Harry's wrists. His hands barely wrapped around them, but he held on anyway. "You didn't mean for it to, I know. You just wanted to sing for people and wear beautiful suits and wide legged trousers and spit water at people. But the world wanted more from you." 

 

Harry nodded. In the dim light, his eyes looked watery. If he started to cry, Louis would start to cry. 

 

"I know, deep down, you didn't mean to ignore me and - no, stop, let me finish. You got so famous so fast. I don't think either of us knew this would happen. But whether you wanted to or not, Harry, you forgot about me. Us. And you went on these whirlwind adventures and I had to sit alone in our flat and read about them online. It should have been  _me_ with you, Harry. It should always be me, and I just want to know why it's not." 

 

By the end of his little speech, he was a bit weepy, and he sniffled when Harry shook his sleeve down and used it to wipe underneath his eyes. It was the intimate contact he was craving, and his heart settled. 

 

"I'm coming out." Harry decidedquietly, turning his hand so that his knuckles grazed Louis' cheek. He was tired of waiting, tired of insisting the time wasn't right. It was now or never.  "I don't know when or how, but I am. Liam has been working with me to find a loophole in my contracts." 

 

"That's amazing, H." He smiled weakly. "I'm proud of you." 

 

"I'm coming out for you, Louis." Harry said. "I don't want to do any of this anymore if I can't have you. I want you with me on every yacht trip, on every airplane, on every vacation I take. I want you to be the first face I see when I'm on stage and I look to my left. I want you to be in my bed at night at the hotel room, when you leave the venue early or are sick and can't come. I want my ring on your finger and I want my baby inside of your belly and I want my headstone next to yours." 

 

Louis pursed his lips. 

 

"Fuck. I know that's not romantic, but it's how I feel." Harry rubbed the back of his neck. He looked so vulnerable standing there, not at all the rockstar Harry Styles that makes the front pages. It was the Harry Styles who wore mismatched socks and insisted their first time be in front of the fireplace on a snowy night because "It's romantic, Louis!". It was the Harry who he'd been missing. 

 

"It is," Louis reached out again, this time grabbing the bottoms of Harry's jumper. He twisted the fabric in his hands and stepped closer. "It's very romantic." 

 

Harry shook his head. "It's not." 

 

"Maybe. But it's what I wanted to hear." Louis said. "And now that I've heard it, I need to see it. I want to believe you and trust you Harry, but my blind trust in you has made me look foolish." 

 

"I know." Harry blinked a few times in quick succession. It was a clear sign that he was about to cry and didn't want to. "I'll invite Liam over tonight, and he can explain this. He can help us understand what's in store." 

 

Louis nodded. "I think that's the best. The last thing you need right now is more confusion." He let go of Harry's jumper and instead reached for his hand. They fit together so effortlessly. "And we need to start downsizing your team, get rid of some groupies and clear out your contacts." 

 

Harry looked confused. 

 

"You need to be around people who have your best interest at heart." He explained. "Those people only want to be seen with you for their own agenda. I can't stand to see you taken advantage of." 

 

Harry nodded, and then bit his lip. His eyes were watery again. "I never meant for any of this to happen." He whispered tearfully. 

 

It was Louis' turn to wipe his eyes, and he embraced Harry in a tight hug. "I know." His voice was muffled with how tightly he was pressed against Harry's front. "I know, love."

 

He wasn't sure Harry had heard the pet name until he was being squeezed tighter. He let out a breath and closed his eyes. He was right where he wanted to be. 


End file.
